Wildfire
by BrazenGolem
Summary: Ten years ago, two Wardens, a Dalish Elf and a Mage of all things, ended the Blight threatening to consume Ferelden. However, when the Mage-Templar War began and southern Thedas descended into chaos, the pair were nowhere to be seen. Now, too late to stop the Breach, Aegnor Mahariel has offered his aid to the Inqusition, and his story. Rated M for violence/language/adult themes
1. Chapter 1: Where it all began

Varric Tethras was, first and foremost, a storyteller. What most seemed to forget is that to be a good one, you had to have good stories, and those were sodding hard to come by.

It had been easier around Hawke and his circle of friends. There was material there that defied what even he believed impossible, and he maintained that his most fantastic stories were those even he couldn't have made up. In his spare time, he'd gone into writing, though while his guard serial had done well, he couldn't seem to get a knack for romances.

_Probably because of Hawke. _In the seven years he'd been in Kirkwall, Hawke hadn't maintained a single romantic relationship to Varric's knowledge. His interpretation of a sweeping romance, competing with the other shit Hawke got into for his attentions, had understandably been below his usual standard. Even as the world fell apart around him, with the explosion at the Conclave, the Breach, and the founding of the Inquisition, Varric was always looking for things to spin into a story, always looking to set to paper what was happening and make sense of it.

The figure across from him had told him, on no uncertain terms, that his story was not to be changed. Varric's friendship with Hawke and the big man's lack of concern with the stories growing around him had allowed him to take a few liberties. Looking at the man sitting across from him, however, he couldn't muster the courage to take the same risk.

He was tall for an elf, and quite obviously Dalish, given the intricate tattoo that covered his forehead. Long red hair hung down to his shoulders, held back from his face by a headband. Piercing green eyes stared out at him, as if threatening to strip away the layers of bullshit Varric had cultivated. He did his best to ignore it. _Ancestors, why do their eyes have to be so big? They're adorable on Daisy, but damn if him staring at me isn't creepy. _

He was obviously a warrior, as well. Dragonbone armor of unmatched quality covered him from the neck down, and while Varric didn't doubt he had a matching helm, he'd never seen him wear it in the few fights they'd been in. The glittering blue greatsword leaned against the wall next to him provided a violent contrast.

All in all, the Hero of Fereldan scared Varric more than the Seeker ever had. But he'd offered Varric his story. He still wasn't quite sure why. _Closure, maybe_. To his knowledge, no one knew everything about Aegnor Mahariel. He knew all too well how liberating it could be to set the record straight.

Taking a deep breath, Aegnor began.

* * *

Freedom.

Legs pumping, wind whistling in my ears. Feet dancing, ever mindful of the roots and stones that might trip me. One mistake between me and a twisted ankle, a shattered knee, a broken neck if unlucky. Branches rushed past my head, narrowly missing as I ducked and dodged. A stream ran across the narrow game trail, brought on by the spring thaw. I leaped across without slowing. A splash followed by a curse behind me brought a smile to my face. I turned to see Tamlen lagging behind, having landed in the stream and shooting me a reproachful look. I only grinned wider. "Keep up, Da'len! Or do you want them to get away?" He huffed and sprinted after me.

I laughed and turned my head towards our current quarry: three shemlen, wandering where they should not. They wore no armor, carried no weapons, and seemed utterly terrified of the elves chasing after them. Were there two? Two dozen? Two hundred? Grinning savagely, I drew my bow from my back and began firing arrows through the trees. Firing a bow while running at full tilt is by no means accurate. Accuracy wasn't my goal, however. A little fear, a little desperation from the prey made catching them all the sweeter, and I had no doubt that the shemlen thought we were trying to kill them. They seemed a boring sort, farmers and whatnot. A little excitement was good for them.

I turned back to Tamlen and whistled to get his attention. "You go left, I'll go right!" Without waiting for him to reply, I veered off in my chosen direction. He would be annoyed with me later, but right now the hunt was too exciting for me to care. Ducking and weaving through the trees, I continued firing. The small shapes in the distance were falling over themselves trying to get away. _I bet you don't even see that valley you're being herded towards, do you? _I sighed. It was nice to have a hunt go well, but the prey could show some intelligence once in a while, surely?

Unfortunately not. The ground in the valley was muddy and treacherous compared to the higher ground Tamlen and I ran on, allowing us to easily outpace them. I whistled to Tamlen. He whistled back, and we both began our descent into the canyon. Dissatisfied as I was at the ease with which we caught them, the look on their faces as we burst through the trees in front of them was priceless. _Can't blame them, really. _I imagined what they saw. Two elves, one blonde and the other with flaming red hair and almost as tall as they were, covered with strange tattoos and clad in deerskins. We both had bows in our hands, and while I carried mine easily with an arrow nocked, Tamlen had his drawn and looked ready to fire. He glared at them. "What are you doing here, shem? You're not welcome."

The one at their head paused for a second, torn between fear and anger. Anger won. "Shut yer mouth, ya filthy knife ear! Ye've no right to keep us out!" Tamlen's eyes flashed. I didn't particularly want them dead, given the suspicion that would fall on the clan, so I stepped forward and motioned to Tamlen to lower his bow. He did, albeit unhappily. I put on a pleasant smile. "We were just having a bit of sport to remind you shemlen to keep well away from us. I usually don't kill prey if I'm not going to skin and eat it, but when it starts insulting me," I let my hand drift towards the curved steel blade I carried on my back, "I might make an exception." The leader paled and stumbled back.

The other two put up their hands and started backing away. One of them, dressed like a blacksmith and with matching forearms, spoke up. "Please, ser. We didn't know this forest belonged to the Dalish! We'll leave!" _Smart boy. _I let my hand drop.

Tamlen snarled. "First, tell us what you were doing here." I nodded encouragingly at the blacksmith. _I'm curious as to that, myself._ He hesitated, turning to see his fellows trying to inch away.

I raised my bow and gestured sharply at them. "I don't think he'd appreciate you abandoning him, would you? A bit cold if you ask me." They froze, sweating visibly. I turned to the blacksmith. "You were saying?"

He put a shaking hand into his pocket. "W-we heard 'bout a ruin 'round here, so we went 'n took a look." I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing in his face. This bear of a man stuttering like he had a chill was downright comical. "We found it, but m-monsters attacked us!"

Tamlen cut in. "Ruins? There are no ruins in these forests. A poor lie."

I was of the same mind until I noticed what the blacksmith had pulled out of his pocket. "What is that?"

He flinched. "We took it from the ruins! It was all we could find before monsters appeared!" I held out my hand and raised an eyebrow expectantly. He dropped it in my hand and jerked back, as if touching me would burn him. I looked down at it and furrowed my brow.

It was a shard of rock with intricate script covering it. It looked as if it was part of a larger piece, with jagged edges cutting off the writing. _What in the-. _I let out a hiss of surprise. _That's elvish! _I could practically feel Tamlen's curiosity, so I turned and handed it to him. "It's elvish, of that I'm certain."

He started as I said that and held it up reverently, lips moving soundlessly as he tried to make out what it said. I waved a dismissive hands at the humans. "Off with you then." As soon as the words left me, they bolted away to the North. I shook my head, chuckling. _Humans. Creators, how did they manage to conquer us in the first place? _

Tamlen tapped me on the shoulder, annoyed. "We're not going to kill them?"

I shook my head. "You know me, Tamlen. I'm not fond of them, but I don't kill what I'm not going to skin and eat unless it attacks me first."

"Or calls you a knife ear."

I grimaced. "True, but they learned their lesson."

Tamlen huffed. "You didn't even wait for them to point us in the right direction!"

I raised an eyebrow, amused. Before he could speak, I pointed at the muddy tracks the humans had left. "I think that's all the direction you need, oh master tracker." Predictably, he socked me on the arm in retaliation. I, of course, socked him back.

He stumbled a few steps and winced. "Yes, yes, you're freakishly strong, we get it!" He rubbed his arm ruefully. "It's like the Dread Wolf himself sent you to annoy me today."

"I blame you."

"You blame me for what YOU are doing?"

"Well, you get annoyed so _easily._"

"Creators, I hate you."

"Take a look at this ruin?"

"Right behind you."

* * *

"Er, Tamlen, you sure I should go first?" Ordinarily, it would be a given. I'd pushed Tamlen aside more than once when we were younger to be the first in an unexplored cave or crevice. This one, however… it felt WRONG. No birds sang in the trees around us, and no animals rustled through the undergrowth. The aura of disquiet was palpable to me, accustomed as I was to the sound of the forest. The blackness of the entrance combined with the utter silence made me feel as if I was staring into the void itself.

Tamlen smirked. "What's wrong, Da'len? Scared of a monster in the dark?"

I bristled, then bit the inside of my cheek to reply in kind. _I had that coming. _I hesitated a moment, then sighed. "Fine, then." I drew my sword. "But if you sneak up and try to scare me, I'm going to have to kill you." He assumed an innocent look. I rolled my eyes and started walking towards the entrance, ignoring his chuckling.

I only made it a few feet inside the entrance before I barked my shin on a stone I hadn't seen. "Fenedhis!" I swore. "Tamlen, do you have a torch?" He did, and soon the entrance was bathed in flickering light. Between the torch and our elvish eyes, we managed to make it to the first chamber without tripping over our own feet. I took note of the artistry covering the ruined walls. I imagined that it had once been very beautiful, when properly lit and bereft of the gaps that now littered it. In the unsteady light, however, it looked as if the walls were crawling.

We continued on in silence. The atmosphere that had seemed foreboding outside was downright oppressive. I listened for Tamlen's soft footfalls to reassure myself that I wasn't alone in this dank, dark place. The blade I held in front of me was equally reassuring.

Just as we crossed the threshold of another chamber, I heard a faint scuffing sound, akin to rubbing leather against stone. I inched back and turned to Tamlen. "Tamlen, do you-" I was cut off as my blade was batted aside. I stumbled back, cursing, and pulled back my blade to strike. Before I could, the creature tackled me to the ground. A choked moaning reached my ears as I felt teeth snap together just short of my nose. I forced my torch into its jaws and tried desperately to push it off of me. In the unsteady torchlight, I got my first good look.

It was a corpse, that much was certain. The nose and eyes had long since rotted away, leaving only leathery flesh stretched across its skull. Tattered garments clung to its bony limbs, though their thinness was at odds with the terrible strength they held. Blackened teeth bit into the torch and the corpse moaned again, frustrated.

These observations, however, were overshadowed by a single thought going through my brain. _AAAAH! GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF! _I managed to get my feet under its chest and kicked it off of me, bellowing, "TAMLEN!" Creators bless him, he didn't panic, instead planting his foot on its chest, drawing, and firing his bow in a smooth action. Seeing the arrow lodged in its throat, I dared breathe a sigh of relief.

It lay still for a moment. Without warning, it redoubled its efforts, its moaning louder and rattling around the arrow in its throat. "Watch out!" I cried. Tamlen's eyes widened as he staggered back, not fast enough to escape the horrors clawing hands dragging him to the ground. He battered it with his bow, trying to dislodge it and failing. He changed tactics and shoved his bow into its mouth as I had done with my torch, using the reprieve to draw his dagger and start stabbing it. The razor sharp point only penetrated an inch or two before getting stuck.

I shook myself out of my stupor and threw myself off of the floor. "Get off of him!" I yelled. It snapped the bow in its mouth and was about to bite Tamlen when I smashed its head in with my torch. Its ceaseless moaning turned into a shriek of agony as it caught fire. Tamlen lay sweating, terror plain on his face as it clung to him, even with its flesh burning. The unholy union off cooking meat and burning hair assaulted my nostrils. _Looks like I'll have to free Tamlen the hard way. _I aimed carefully with my blade before swinging backhand at the creatures arms, avoiding Tamlen by a few scant inches. The heavy blade succeeded where the dagger failed, lopping them both off at the elbow. I noted with some disquiet that the severed forearms still clung to Tamlen. With a yell, I planted my foot on its side and heaved, finally throwing it off of him.

_Alright, time to get back to the Keeper and- _I stared with disbelief as it pushed itself from the floor with its stumps and ran at me. _What does it take to kill these things?! _For the first time, I was able to get into a proper fighting stance before it was upon me. I danced out of its reach and swung, feeling my blade slice through its leathery neck, sever its spine, and finally remove its head from its shoulders, body and head clattering to the floor. The moaning ceased.

Tamlen tugged unsuccessfully at the hand still latched onto him. "Mythal save us! What children's story did that crawl out of?" I didn't answer. I wanted to tell him to keep it down, that he was being an idiot, that he might attract more of them, only to find myself gasping for breath. Cold sweat covered me, reminding me of when Merril had thawed me out after a poorly aimed ice spell. _Thank the Creators you weren't here to see this, Da'len. I don't think you need the nightmares. _Tamlen continued to struggle, failed, and shot me a reproachful look. "A little help, Lethallin?"

I managed to catch my breath and complied. I winced with every rotted finger I broke to free him. _Speaking of nightmares, the crunch of breaking fingers is as good a fodder as I've heard._ The smell wasn't helping on that front. I managed to get the first one off of him. Grimacing, I flung it away from me.

Tamlen shot me a grateful look. "Thank you, Lethallin."

I grunted. "Thank me when I get the other one off of you." I grit my teeth and started breaking fingers on the second hand. A small noise, hardly audible over the crunch, reached me. "Is that you, Tamlen?" I whispered.

Confusion colored his features. "Is what me?" I frowned. _There it is again. What is… _A third time. A rattling moan, directly behind me. I felt the blood drain from my face. Grabbing the torch, I wheeled around and came to my feet, blade in front of me.

Tamlen struggled to his feet, transferring his blade to his left hand now unencumbered by corpse bits. "What is it?"

I hesitated briefly, then flung the torch in the direction of the sound. For a brief, terrifying moment, I feared that my aim was off. That terror was soon replaced when the light reached them. Where the first one had been small and bony, these were larger. Rusty scale armor covered them, hanging off awkwardly where the straps had rotted or been chewed away, and notched blades glittered faintly in their grip. Even worse were the helmets and chain coifs covering their heads. _Fenedhis! Cutting off their heads is going to be difficult. Do we run, or fight?_

They answered that question for us, closing the distance with incredible speed. The magic animating them was powerful, to make weight of such cumbersome armor of little concern. I opened my mouth to pray, then bit my tongue. _Not yet. _Instead, I pushed Tamlen behind me. "I'll get their attention! Get out of here!"

He swore. I didn't look back to see if he did as I asked, instead bellowing and charging forward, sword held high.

My first strike took one under the arm as I feinted and went low, crunching through scale and breaking bones. The damage was less effective than the sheer impact, sending him flying a few feet before landing noisily. I winced at the sound of rusted steel against stone as it slid to a stop. I spun with the momentum of my swing, batting aside one of their swords with my own and smashing my fist into the face of a third. My armored glove shattered its skull and made splinters of its teeth, though the only bother I seemed to cause it was the halting of its charge. _Alright, now where's the fourth one-_

I opened my eyes to find myself flat on the ground, my vision blurred and my head hurting like thunder. _Did I black out? _Looking, up, I saw blood shining on one of their mailed fists, the one I had missed. Blood dripped down my forehead. My eyes widened as it raised its sword and thrust downwards. I batted it aside with my forearm and swung my fist downwards, driving it into the stone and snapping it in two, before planting my feet on its chest and shoving. Already top-heavy from the weight of its armor, it stumbled back and crashed to the ground with its brethren.

I scrambled back to my feet, sword in front of me, breathing hard. The last one I saw standing swung wildly at me. I frowned, dancing out of reach. _There were four! Where's the last one? The one with the ruined face? _There wasn't any time to worry about it. Already a second was on its feet, and the one I'd kicked wasn't far behind. I parried the corpse's second swing and swiped at its thigh, where its armor had rusted away. The heavy blade sheared through it easily. I stepped inside its reach and grabbed it by the neck, throwing it at the corpse I had first struck. Pushing past them as they disentangled themselves, I hacked at the neck of the one still on the ground. The first strike smashed the mail, the second smashed through its spine. It went blessedly limp.

I turned my head wildly, trying to find the fourth one. My ears found it first. I heard the clash of metal on metal nearby. "Tamlen! I told you to get out of here!"

His reply rang through the darkness. "If I had, you'd be dead!" I grinned despite myself. _Don't die, Lethallin. I need someone to tell me what a cocky idiot I am. _A blade whistling towards me reminded me that ME living wasn't a sure thing either. Cursing, I struck back.

The three of us wheeled around in circles for what felt like hours. Their utter disregard for their bodies made them easy to hit, but these two had mostly intact armor. Fending off two of them coupled with their lack of fatigue meant that slowly, but surely, I was losing ground. One of their blades made it through my bracer, leaving a shallow cut that stung like fire. Blood sheeted from my bleeding forehead, blinding me every few seconds. A blow to my ribs throbbed. I didn't know if any were cracked. _The bruise will be impressive, at the very least. _I needed a change of tactics. When I bumped into Tamlen, I had my answer.

We stood, fighting back to back. "Can you hold off two of them for a few seconds?" I yelled. It echoed painfully off the wall, mixing with the clash of swords.

Mercifully, he nodded, understanding. "On three?"

I narrowly avoided taking a blade to the gut. They were constantly rushing, and backed up against Tamlen as I was, three seconds was too late. "THREE!" I swiveled to face Tamlen's foe, catching a glimpse of him as I did. He was in bad condition. For every injury I'd taken, it looked like he'd taken four. A goodly amount of blood covered him, all of it his. In the flickering torchlight, I saw the desperation in his eyes. _Creators forgive me if I have killed my friend. _

I bellowed in rage, lashing out at the corpse that had injured my friend. I struck high. _Die! _I struck low. _Die! _I struck, filled by fear and desperation, knowing that every second I spent on this one was another second Tamlen was fighting for his life. Armor split beneath my blade, staggering the corpse before it could strike back. Fortunately, one of my blows managed to knock off its helmet, allowing me lop off its head with a backhanded swing. I wheeled around and rushed towards Tamlen.

He had looked bad before. Now, he looked like Falon'Din himself was coming to claim him. His sword lay on the floor some ten feet away from him. Blood poured down his left arm from a deep cut, and in his left hand was his dagger, trying desperately to keep their blades from his innards. _Creators, I'm a fool! _I took a deep breath as I ran, raised my sword, and threw it as I exhaled. It struck one of them high in the chest, sending it reeling. I ran past and backhanded it, trying to get it away from Tamlen as I tackled the second one.

Thankfully, its helm was open faced. Without hesitating, I slammed my right fist into its rotted skull. I moaned at me, clacking its teeth, trying to hack at me with its sword. I batted it aside and punched it again. And again. Over and over I rained blows down on it, ignoring the crunching, the _squelching _sounds as I drew my fist back for another.

A scream from Tamlen made me stop. I lurched to my feet, seeing Tamlen's dagger fly through the air, the sword rising and falling towards my friend, my BEST friend, and charged. I managed to knock it off balance and cause its strike to go wide. Gasping for breath, I grabbed onto its throat as it battered me with its off hand, trying to dislodge me. I squeezed and pulled. It's head now attached only by the smallest strings of flesh, it slumped back, dangling, before tearing free of the body and dropping to the floor. The incessant moaning, near constant for the past few minutes, finally stopped.

I coughed. "Tamlen? Are you-" I started coughing again, the dust raised in the scuffle finally catching up to me.

"Am I what? More handsome than you?" I coughed again, this time with a smile on my face. _Ass. _I saw his face reappear in the torchlight, pale but grinning. "You don't stand a chance. My face doesn't look like the Dread Wolf chewed up and spit it out."

I drew myself to my full height, swaying slightly, eyebrow raised. "Oh? The raven calls the crow black. You look like death, Lethallin."

His grin faltered. "I'm not feeling great either. Did you prepare any poultices?" I had, and set about administering them. They were basic, designed to keep one going until magic or a few days rest could be had. They were a good deal better than bleeding out, however, and they managed to get Tamlen and I back into walking shape. My right hand was another story. The bones were cracked at the least, and the throbbing told me that at least one was broken. There were shard of bone that had made it through my leather gloves, and I'm certain that I missed more than a few in the uncertain light.

Tamlen shook his head. "Thank the Creators you were the one with me, Aegnor. I don't think any of the others would've been as lucky."

I offered a forced smile. "That's what friends are for, Tamlen. Breaking faces and insulting each other."

He huffed. "I was being serious."

"You smell like corpse dust."

"W-what?"

"See, I was being serious too. Insults and broken faces."

"You're impossible."

I chuckled. "Are you trying to propose to me? I do not see a wolf pelt. Tsk. What would the other hunters say?"

Tamlen laughed. "Don't drag me down that path. You know I don't share your tastes."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "You sure? Merril thinks we look ADORABLE together!"

He shook his head. "Merril would probably find a dragon adorable, it doesn't mean I want one pulling my aravel."

"So I'm a dragon now? The part about pulling your aravel is just you playing hard to get, but the rest sounds fine."

He punched me on the shoulder. "Shut up, you." I winced, but kept grinning. He dusted his hands off and went to retrieve his weapons. Not trusting my right hand, I grabbed my own blade in my left. "You ready to find who reanimated these things?"

I blanched. "Creators, no! I don't fancy fighting more of these things left handed!"

Tamlen rolled his eyes. "If there were more to throw at us, they'd have tried to kill us. It'd make no sense to have them fight us only four at a time! Think about it."

I sighed. "You're going to go after them anyway, aren't you?"

"I generally do that to those that try to kill me with black magic."

I snorted, not at all pleased with his thinking. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this is the first time someone has tried to kill you period, let alone with black magic."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, I see your point." I relaxed slightly. "Now are you coming with me or not?" Tension it is then.

I started to respond hotly, to tell him what an idiot he was, then closed my mouth and slumped my shoulders. "You're going anyway, aren't you?"

He smirked. "You know me too well, Lethallin."

"Remind me why we're friends."

"Because I get you into the fun kind of trouble." I wasn't sure if it was the accuracy or the flippancy of that statement scared me more. He made a conciliatory gesture. "Alright, I'll stop prodding. We'll scout out as far as we can, and if we see any sign of danger we run for it."

It was the best I could hope for. "Done." I forced a smile on my face. "I never miss a chance to beat you in a sprint."

He offered a mock scowl. "Jump in a snow bank, Aegnor."

I grinned. "Only if I get to throw you in headfirst."

"Hmph. I suppose I should be glad that the spring thaw came early."

"It's not my day, is it?"

"Not at all. Let's get moving."

* * *

We continued deeper into the ruin, conscious of the fact that our torch wouldn't last forever. Few elves are afraid of the dark, given our superior night vision, but the thought of being stuck in here with no light to make my way out put some spring in my step.

That said, the ruin itself was fascinating. From what I could tell, the architecture was human in origin. _Probably Tevinter, _I thought, noting many similarities with the Imperial Highway running through Fereldan. I shook my head. As vile and corrupt as the Tevinter Imperium had been at its height, even I had to admire the artistry and skill that went into creating this place.

What did stick in my craw, however, was the abundance of elven artifacts incorporated into the design. We passed several statues of an unknown metal, which glittered far more in the torchlight than I would have expected and, upon inspection, seemed to be easily harder than steel if my newly blunted dagger was anything to judge by. The statue wasn't even scratched. Tamlen cursed at my disregard for relics of our people before I managed to mollify him, saying that if they'd survived thousands of years and a necromancer, then my dagger wasn't the worst they'd been through. They'd probably traveled the length of Thedas to be placed here, at the pleasure of the Tevinter Magisters who had enslaved us. That we Dalish had access to these ruins while Tevinter was corralled in its own small corner of the world was a pleasing one.

Despite my fascination, however, the tension of empty room after empty room was wearing on me. Tamlen relaxed, seeing it as a sign that he was right. As much as I wanted to agree with him, there was something _wrong_ about this place, some vague sense of foreboding about it that seeped into my bones. Having to rely on my left hand to defend myself did nothing to assuage it.

Then, we found the mirror.

* * *

After a long moment of silence, Varric leaned forward expectantly. "And?" He didn't think that Aegnor was deliberately trying to hide anything. He'd come to him, after all, not the other way around. Varric grinned inwardly, remembering the expression on the Seeker's face when faced with the prospect of relying on him. After a moment of observation, however, it was clear that the Warden's pensive expression wasn't one of trying to put events in order. In that moment, those big sodding elvish eyes looked exactly like Hawke's. Tired, sad, and full of regret.

Aegnor let out the breath he'd been holding in a rush and shook his head ruefully. "My apologies, Varric. It's… it's been a while since I've said aloud what happened in that ruin."

Varric leaned back, deciding that it was safer to avoid pressing him. Andraste's ass, when was it _ever _a good idea to press Aegnor? His casual disregard for what he found unimportant was as legendary as his skill with a blade. "Take your time, Red. Maker knows some stories have given me trouble." _Bartrand, you nug-humping bastard. _The Seeker's casual acceptance of him having to kill his own brother still irked him, almost as much as her lack of caring that remembering it was painful in and of itself.

Aegnor smiled faintly. "Red? Honestly, I'd expected better from a storyteller of your reputation."

Varric spread his hands helplessly. "What? You can't expect me to have a good one lined up at a moment's notice!"

Aegnor raised an eyebrow. "I'm telling you my story, one that no one else knows in its entirety, and you can't even give me a good nickname in return? For shame, Master Tethras." He tsked.

Varric huffed. "Fine." He thought for a minute, tapping his chin. "How about… Wildfire?"

It was amusing to see surprise on Aegnor's face. "How'd you come up with that?"

Varric shrugged. "You have red hair, red armor, you swing around a giant flaming sword, and you're both unbelievably destructive and highly unpredictable in where you'll turn up."

Aegnor considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "It'll work, I suppose." He grinned briefly, then assumed a more sober expression. "Alright, then. I can't put off telling such a critical part of the story. I have to relive the actions of a foolish young elf, who wanted nothing more than to keep his friend safe and make it back home."

"If you ne-"

"No!" He cut off Varric sharply, then continued softly. "No. It's time this came to light."

* * *

The sight of it took my breath away. I didn't need to look at Tamlen to know that he was similarly affected. Half again as tall as I was, it was mounted in a frame carved in the likeness of grown vines, though the detail was such that I wondered if the ancient elves hadn't found a method of petrifying living plants for decoration. Set on a dais, it was obvious that it was of some importance to the Tevinters, though what it might be used for other than vanity I couldn't imagine. Though, in all fairness, excessive vanity was well in line with what I knew of the ancient magisters.

The mirror itself, however, was what enthralled us. To call it beautiful, captivating, would be akin to calling month old carrion a tad ripe. Instead of showing a mere reflection, it appeared to shift and waver with the air currents. Hints of various colors, an astounding variety, made themselves known. Elgar'nan, it looked _alive. _

Such was our captivation that I didn't notice us walking closer until had reached the steps to the dais. In a flash of clarity, I regained my senses. The foreboding in by bones was growing stronger with each unwilling step I took. Every fiber of my being was shouting at me, _wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong WRONG! _I grit my teeth, trying to stop, and succeeded for a brief moment, shaking visibly with the effort. That's when the song hit me.

Imagine the softest, subtlest song you have ever heard. Imagine that the skeins of music that make your foot tap, that make you start humming, instead caused you to walk. You may be aware of it, and desperately want to fight it, but you inevitably react to it in one way or another. This song was far more subtle than that, and there was only one way to react: to walk forward. Even more difficult to ignore was the aching beauty of the song. Even as my being sang wrongness, it sang rightness back, and grew stronger with every step I took. With the last bit of willpower I could muster, I turned my head to see if Tamlen was fighting it, to see if we could give each other the strength to resist. What I saw made my blood turn to ice.

He was several steps ahead of me, far too many to have attempted any form of resistance. I couldn't find it in me to blame him. Not for his insistence on venturing further into this place, not for his lack of desire to fight the song, nothing. A hunter he may be, but he was a child. And I knew then that I was a child too. No child would have stood by and watched his friend give in to something this insidious.

In that instant, something snapped inside of me. I saw events play out clearly. Tamlen would touch the mirror, and he would die. I would touch the mirror, and I would die, howling and cursing within my own mind as my body betrayed me, as I watched my best friend die. I found some hidden font of willpower inside of me, and rushed forward, fully embracing the song. As I came abreast of Tamlen, I used every bit of it to break its control over my left arm, snapping it out and pushing him off of the dais. His shocked expression as he fell, saw me rush towards the mirror, told me that the spell had been broken, however temporarily. I smiled at him sadly. "Ir abelas, Lethallin. Dareth Shiral." I saw his lips move in response, but his words never reached my ears. The song obliterated any other noise.

I barreled headlong into the mirror, the song resisting my attempts to slow down. I saw more and more flickering images in the mirror, surrounding my terrified reflection.

The second my forehead touched its surfaced, I was no longer there.

A bewildering array of images assaulted me, no longer as pictures, but as if I were there. Had my spirit been able to, I have no doubt I would have vomited at the dizzying speeds I was traveling, first to a desolate wasteland strewn with the bones of giant beasts, then to a forest temple shining in the afternoon sun. Dozens followed: a harbor carved from marble and strewn with chains, a massive city I thought in Tevinter if the elven slaves were any indicator, a dusty room filled with valuables. Finally, my spirit was dragged to a city. I gasped at the sight.

It was massive, easily larger than any of the others I'd been shown. It was easily ten miles across at its widest point, and was far longer lengthwise. A gap in the buildings along its length with bridges crossing it suggested it had been built around a river, though the eerie lack of running water coupled with the multitude of collapsed buildings suggested that this city was old. Very, very old. I couldn't begin to place the architecture, particularly given how far up I was.

It took me a second to realize that, despite the even lighting, it was underground as well. The lack of shadows gave the city an eerily flat look, and try as I might I couldn't place the color of the illumination. I had no way of telling if the light was some form of magic, or if the mirror was giving me a means of seeing what was shown.

At the center of the city, curled up at the top of a massive spire, the only one not collapsed or ruined in some way, was a dragon. Even after what I had seen, my jaw would have dropped had I been able to. Comparing it to the doorways and windows I assumed were designed for humans, the dragon was gigantic, easily five times taller than me at the shoulder. I forced myself to look closer, curiosity overriding my abject terror. It opened the eye facing me, easily as large as my head, and held my gaze for a long moment. It was astonishingly lucid, looking for all the world like one of my eyes on a larger scale instead of a lizard's, bright green and intelligent. The last thing I remember before being slammed back into my body was wishing that Tamlen could have seen what I had seen. _I'll see you in the beyond, my friend. I'll wait for you and Merril, and tell you all about it. _I think I smiled at the thought as the mirror blasted me off my feet. Imagining Merril's wide eyed wonder was a happy thing in death.

* * *

Varric was leaning forward, straining to hear what Aegnor was saying. His voice had grown soft over the course of the telling, which combined with its rasp made it difficult to understand what he was saying.

Had he not been so close, he may not have noticed the welling of tears in his eyes.

"I did die, you know."

Varric jerked himself out of his reverie and frowned. "What? No you didn't. You wouldn't be here tugging at my heartstrings if you had."

Aegnor shook his head. "When Duncan found me, he said that there was no trace of warmth in my limbs, no pulse, no breath. Given the blow to the head I'd taken being slammed into the wall, it seemed like there was no way I could have survived in any case. He only took me back to my clan because he knew they were nearby, and he was friends with Marethari."

Varric nodded, smiling. "Daisy told me about him. Said that it, 'looked like a squirrel had grabbed hold of his chin'." He said, trying and failing to imitate Merril's voice. Aegnor chuckled. Varric joined him for a second, then grew serious. "In any case, you have my sympathy for what happened. I've lost enough friends to know how much it hurts."

Aegnor tensed. "He wasn't dead either."

"What?!"

"You heard me. The mirror didn't kill him. Not directly, anyway."

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Daisy told Hawke and I that the mirror killed Tamlen and made you sick. Was she wrong?"

Aegnor nodded, grimacing. "Unfortunately. Given what happened, I wish it had killed him."

Varric sighed. "Fine, fine. I'm not going to be like the Seeker and try to skip ahead. If you want me to know, you'll tell me."

Aegnor smiled tightly. "I appreciate it. And I won't hold back anything important, I promise you."

* * *

I woke to the feeling of droplets falling onto my cheeks. _Is it raining? How could it be, if I'm in a cave? _Looking around, it was obvious I wasn't in a cave, even with everything out of focus. My eyes were full of grit, and refused to open fully. Worse was my throat, which had a texture reminiscent of sand. I opened my mouth to try to speak, and managed only to sound more a corpse than those I had killed.

I heard a gasp. "Aegnor?" Merril? "AEGNOR!" I wheezed as I was engulfed in a crushing hug. I still can't reconcile her tiny frame with how hard she could hug me. While highly unpleasant, the squeezing had the benefit of opening my eyes fully, seeing as they felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. I relaxed slightly when I recognized the inside of Marethari's aravel, before being reminded of my acute need to breathe. My weak flailing and strangled gasps eventually got across the message that I was in dire need of water and not being squeezed to death, and an hour later, having gorged myself and addressed a thirst I doubted I would ever quench, I could think clearly. Marethari, who had heard the commotion, waited for me to regain my voice before asking questions.

And ask she did. "Where is Tamlen, Da'len? Duncan brought you back a corpse, and said that Tamlen was nowhere to be found."

I raised my head sharply. "What do you mean, nowhere to be found?"

She looked at me sadly. "No body, no tracks, no sign of where he might have gone or what might have happened to him."

I bolted upright, surprised at how little my body protested, stopped only by Marethari's hand on my chest. A frail old elf she may be, but that hand might have been made of iron. Fighting against it never occurred to me. "We need to find him. NOW!"

"Da'len, wai-"

"And who is Duncan? If there is a Dalish with that name, I'll eat my quiver."

"He's-"

"Do we have hunters out? I can lead them to the ruin, it's-"

"Da'len!" She did not raise her voice, but the command in her voice was no less clear. "Hush. Do not think you are the only one grieving for Tamlen. What can be done is being done. What you _can_ do is tell us what happened."

I held her gaze, furious as only a young man could be, before slumping back. "Ma nuvenin, Keeper." I told them all that had transpired. It was miserable, and grew more so the further I went as the realization struck me that Tamlen was gone. I wept, then. Not as I do now, with some semblance of dignity. My tears ran freely, only to dry on my cheeks and leave my eyes red and raw, and be washed away by fresh tears as I was wracked with fresh sobs. Merril did her best to comfort me, only to descend into a lower state than mine. Marethari was impassive, yet I could feel sympathy radiating from her.

I did not, however, tell them what I had seen in the mirror, instead speaking of terrible nightmares and crippling pain. I was determined to halt even Merril's curiosity towards the cursed thing. It wrenched my heart to see them react to my words. I have no doubt they thought Tamlen had died in even greater pain than I had, and it was then that I saw the first tears appear on Marethari's face.

I took a shaky breath, wiping the tears from my face. "That's all I remember before waking up here and Merril attacking me." That got a chuckle out of Marethari, and Merril blushed furiously. The levity soon faded, however, leaving us with nothing but awkward silence. Tamlen was gone, and we had just laughed. _It's not wrong to want to make people smile, _I rebuked myself. Unsurprisingly, it didn't help.

It was Duncan that saved us. Considerably taller than even myself, he had to stoop to get into the aravel. His armor and weapons were undeniably human, and his scruffy beard made him easily the least elf-like man imaginable. Despite his appearance, Marethari inclined her head respectfully. "Duncan. I trust that your search went well?"

His keen eyes sought out mine for a brief moment. Upon seeing that I was lucid and upright, his face shifted slightly. I stared back at him, determined to know what had caused it. Despite my efforts, he was inscrutable beyond that small reaction. He turned back to Marethari and shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. I was unable to find any trace your hunter, nor the necromancer who reanimated those corpses."

I cocked my head, feeling as if I was several steps behind everyone else. I considered being polite, but seeing that weathered face gave me the impression of a warrior, not a talker. Bluntness, then. "Who are you to take such an interest in our affairs?"

Marethari moved to reprimand me, but Duncan beat her to the punch. "I am Duncan, of the Grey Wardens. I was the one who found you and brought you back. As for why I am here, I was tracking a darkspawn necromancer, whose handiwork you've seen for yourself. Unfortunately, like your friend, his trail goes cold at the mirror."

His words brought me up short. The Grey Wardens supposedly weren't concerned by race or background, and the respectful way Duncan had addressed me seemed to confirm it.

That left one question. "What happened to the mirror?"

Duncan grew solemn. "I destroyed it. I understand it was a relic of your people, but it was too late to save it. I suspect the Necromancer used it in some manner to escape me, and in doing so tainted the mirror. It was that taint that knocked you unconscious."

I stiffened. _Darkspawn taint. _I had to know. "You said it was the taint that did this to me?" A slow nod. "Then am I… am I tainted?" Another nod. I slumped.

Merril let out a cry of shock. "You can't be tainted! The Keeper healed you when Duncan brought you back, even if you weren't breathing at the time. She can cure anything!"

Marethari shook her head. "No, Merril. I cannot cure anything. If what Duncan says is true, then no magic will cure Aegnor. The Blight has always been an anathema to magic. Only fire can cleanse it, and Aegnor would not survive such a process." I winced. _Immolation. Nice to know that it's not an option. _

Merril looked stunned. After a few heartbeats, she turned slowly to me. "Are you… are you going to die?" She choked back a sob. Her next words were a whisper. "Creators save me, I can't lose you too."

I was dangerously close to tears myself. I had failed. My friend was gone, almost certainly dead, and I was on my way to join him. In my heart, I knew there was nothing I could have done once we entered that room. It offered no comfort.

Duncan cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I may have a solution, if you're willing to hear it. First, however, I have some questions for Aegnor. Privately, if I may." Marethari nodded unhappily, and led Merril out of the aravel.

Once they were out of earshot, Duncan made himself more comfortable and fixed his shrewd eyes on me. "I stumbled on a curious sight in the ruin."

I frowned. "Oh?"

He remained impassive. "Four rotting corpses, all within close proximity of each other, all of them armed and armored. I can only assume that they were reanimated, given the condition I found them in."

I grimaced. "One of them had a smashed in face, I take it?"

He nodded. "All of them had been mortally wounded in one way or another. More curious was your right hand. Your Keeper tended to your injuries, but when I found you it had bone fragments deeply embedded."

I tapped my leg, impatient. "What do you _want, _Duncan? Yes, Tamlen and I killed them. Or re-killed them. And one of them had strong armor around its neck, so I had to rely on… unconventional tactics."

His eyes glittered. "Tell me, if you would."

I sighed tiredly. "How is this important? You could ask Marethari, I told her what happened."

"I would rather hear it from you."

I looked at him for a long moment, then rested my face in my hands. "Fenedhis. Fine. You want the gory details, I'll give them to you."

I gave him a longer description than the one I'd given Marethari, easily remembering the fight beat for beat. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd forget, and Duncan was nothing if not a captive audience. He fixed me with a long look, searching for something, though I knew not what.

After a moment, he nodded, satisfied with what he had found. "I imagine you need time to stretch your legs. I will speak with your Keeper. She will let you know when you are needed." With that, he turned and made his way out of the aravel.


	2. Chapter 2: Mastering Grief

Aegnor paused. "That was my first indication of the man that Duncan was."

"What? From the way you tell it, he was as expressive as Broody."

"Who?"

"My name for Fenris. He always hated it. Had an expression like someone'd kicked a puppy in front of him when he was 'perfectly content'."

Aegnor chuckled, though his heart wasn't in it. "Ah. Well, maybe he was, but in a different way." His eyes unfocused, lost in thought. "He was perfectly polite to those he met, regardless of who they were or where they were from. He never lost his temper, and he never sought to undermine the achievements of others or displace blame from his failures." Aegnor grimaced. "For all that, he fought the Blight by any means necessary. Of any Grey Warden who ever lived, he fully embraced that ideal. It was only after I told him that I was the one who had brought down the corpses that he wanted to conscript me."

Varric shrugged. "Maybe he was just curious. It's not every day you meet someone who can cave in someone's skull with their bare hands."Aegnor gave him a flat look and held his gaze until he shifted, uncomfortable. "Okay, fine! He wanted to see if you'd make a good Warden. So what?"

"So what? Varric, there were plenty of positions in the Wardens besides fighters. Scholars, scouts, healers, every position where you'd need access to Warden secrets to do your job. In Fereldan, however, there was a Blight, and Duncan was making sure that I would take some darkspawn down with me to make my recruitment worthwhile. If it had been Tamlen that had done the heavy lifting, I would have gone mad with Blight sickness and been put down by my clan."

Varric blanched at the venom in his voice. "It all worked out in the end, didn't it? The Blight, I mean. The rest of this shit isn't going away anytime soon."

Aegnor deflated somewhat. "Yes, I suppose it did." He said sourly. "I just always found it odd. In every tale I've heard about me and my adventures, not one of them seems to realize what a ruthless bastard Duncan was. Every nicety, every carefully cultivated friendship, was for the sole purpose of fighting the Blight. I doubt even Marethari knew the extent of his façade."

"I don't get it. Why are you so hung up on this? If a tenth of the stories about you are true, you've had to make tough calls yourself. They aren't called the Grey Wardens for nothing."

Aegnor snorted. "Look at where the Grey Wardens' "tough calls" have gotten us. Look where the Templar's tough calls have gotten us! Sometimes, a little genuine morality is better than cold calculation." Aegnor shook his head angrily. "Bah. Enough about that. All you need to know is that I'd just lost my best friend, and he only cared that he'd gained a recruit."

* * *

I made my way around the camp, feeling more than a little lost. My best friend was gone, I was going to die from the taint, and there wasn't a sodding thing I could do about it.

_The Maker has a sense of humor. _I'd heard that, once, from a human trader. That a human god with an awful sense of humor was to blame would certainly explain a lot, as far as I was concerned.

My reappearance had garnered a good deal of interest, and many of my clanmates ran up to me, hoping I would have answers. I just shook my head at each one of them. Seeing my red rimmed eyes probably reminded them that I was hit harder than they were, and even the most curious soon left me be. I approached Tamlen's aravel, hoping to find his parent's there. They, at least, deserved to know what had happened. When I heard the sobbing, however, my feet refused to move any further. Afraid, ashamed, and pissed off beyond belief, I set up a few training dummies and set to work. They didn't last long.

I wiped my forehead, breathing hard yet empty in my exertion. I heard footsteps behind me. "I'm sorry about Tamlen, Da'len."

I didn't bother turning around. "Aneth ara, Mother." I methodically began cleaning my sword.

I heard the hurt in her voice. "I know how much he meant to you, Aegnor. I cared for him too."

_She isn't going to leave. _I turned to face her, my head down, intent on what my hands were doing. "He's-he's dead. May Falon'Din guide him in the Beyond."

She gently took the sword from my trembling fingers and set it aside. I looked mutely down at my hands, still grasping at what was no longer there. I didn't even notice that I had cut myself until my Mother wrapped a cloth around my hand. She made me hold her gaze for a second, then pulled me into a tight hug. "Don't blame yourself. I know you. You would have taken on a dragon before you let him die." I nodded, and wept into her shoulder.

There are two kinds of weeping. The first is the weeping of grief. Most of us experience it, at a funeral or some other occasion where you feel a great loss. The second kind is the weeping of abandonment, where you let every barrier down and allow someone to share in your grief. The wept in the first way in Marethari's aravel. My Mother and I wept in the second way, into the others shoulder, clasped in a tight hug.

I remember murmuring into her shoulder, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

She stroked my hair and whispered in my ear, "Shhh, it's okay, it'll be alright." _No, it's not. _I was tainted. I was going to die too, and bring my Mother even more pain. _I'll needed to tell her at some point. _I opened my mouth to tell her, only to stop as the words died in my mouth and I was overcome by a fresh wave of tears. I hated myself, hated that I was too afraid to tell her.

I wanted to die.

* * *

After a few seconds silence, Aegnor leaned back and stroked his chin. "I'm curious. Did you ever meet my mother? She should have been alive and with the Sabrae clan when they camped next to Kirkwall."

Varric shook his head, glad for the chance to hide the tears welling in his eyes. _How can this bastard be so calm talking about that shit?_ "I might have seen her, but we never spoke."

Aegnor's face fell. "Sod."

"You ended the Blight almost a decade ago. You couldn't have tracked down your clan in the meantime and traded stories?"

"I wish I could have. Even after the business in Amaranthine, I could never find the time. And when I could, I was told point blank by whoever was with me when the notion to visit struck to stay away from Kirkwall."

Varric snorted. "For all the good it did. Remind me to tell your friends to sod off the next time they give you advice. If anything, you may have saved more lives had you been there when Anders…"

Aegnor grimaced. "Actually, they were right. I can tell you for a fact that had I seen the damage to the Veil there firsthand, I would have seized control of all the lyrium and mages needed to make it whole again, and considered the political ramifications cheap. Likely, it would've been a theft blamed on the mage underground, and lyrium starved Templars aren't known for their rational decisions. Things might have come to a head even sooner."

Varric briefly considered if he was serious, before remembering just who was sitting across from him. "Flames, Aegnor. Forget I said anything."

Aegnor shook his head. "In any case, we're getting off track."

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to need a pint after this. Or ten."

"Five sovereigns says I can drink you under the table."

"You're on."

* * *

I woke up in my Mother's aravel. I didn't feel good, exactly. I was mindful of the taint encroaching on the edges of my strength, and despite having slept for most of the last couple days, I didn't feel rested either. But I felt… clean. The knot in my chest had been unwound, leaving me with a strange sense of calm.

Most of all, I felt that it was time to stop moping and time to start acting. _To the Void with waiting for Duncan and Marethari to finish talking. _If they were deciding what was to be done with me, I was going to have a say in it.

I moved to leave, then after a moments thought took a few minutes to pack. The emergency supplies I kept handy would be enough for a few weeks on the road if rationed properly, and together with the extra set of clothes and oddments I'd collected over the years made a surprisingly manageable pack. I slipped on my patched gloves, belted on my sword and daggers, and set out into the night.

Thankfully, it was late enough that most of the clan was asleep. I had no desire be distracted from my goal. That I may well be saying goodbye to everything I'd ever known and loved was strangely muted. My best guess was that my mind had decided I'd cried enough, and the pragmatic side had taken over.

It was strangely liberating.

I found the two of them past the edge of the camp, talking in low voices. They'd taken pains to avoid being overheard, but Duncan's massive boot prints made it laughably easy to track them down. Marethari's eyes widened with surprise at the sight of me, while Duncan remained inscrutable as ever. "Da'len, what are you doing here?"

"I need to speak with you and Duncan."

She looked at me curiously. "There are some things for the two of us to discuss yet. Go to sleep, Da'len. We'll still be here in the morning."

She flinched at how sharply I shook my head. "No. If you're going to be discussing my fate, I'm going to be here for it."

"And what makes you think that you are the sole subject of our talks?"

I gave her an annoyed look. "You wanted me to wait until you called for me, after you were finished talking with Duncan. The only thing you could be speaking of is a way to cure the Blight in me, and judging from how long it's taking you, there's a steep price."

"How did you-"

"I'm not stupid, Keeper. If there was a simple cure, there'd be nothing to discuss, and if there _wasn't _a cure, you'd have finished speaking hours ago and decided to give me a quick death. And if you haven't agreed after talking for half a day, then I'm going to decide for myself."

Marethari started to rebuke me, only to have Duncan intervene. "You are correct. As a Grey Warden, I know of a way to stop the spread of the taint within you. As far as your Keeper and I know, the only way. It would require, however, that you become a Grey Warden."

I cocked my head. "Sounds like a fair deal to me."

Marethari looked at me, half sad and half annoyed. "It's not as simple as that."

"Why not? From what I've heard, Grey Wardens travel around and kill darkspawn in between Blight's, and the last one was four hundred years ago! If I was a Warden, I could stay with the clan and hunt darkspawn instead of deer." Inwardly, I winced as I realized what I was saying. A lifetime of fighting inhuman monsters ahead of me? _I'll still be alive, though, and Mother won't have lost her son. _

Duncan shook his head. "That would be stretching the tenets of our order, even outside of a Blight." What. "As it is now, however, I'm going to need every Grey Warden, recruit or otherwise. You would have to leave your clan for as long as that took."

"And as Keeper, I am responsible for the safety of the clan as a whole." Marethari added. "I'm planning on moving the clan north and sailing to the Free Marches. It's entirely possible that decades would pass before you had the chance to see us again."

I was stunned. I looked between the two of them, my eyes pleading. "There's… there's a BLIGHT?!" Any closer to the camp, and I would've woken up everyone. As it was, they winced.

Marethari nodded. "Duncan can't waste any time here, Da'len. He'll have to leave in the morning if he's to join with the King's army before the next engagement."

I set my jaw. "You were hoping to scare me into staying."

She nodded reluctantly. "You have some time left before the taint claims you. I would have you pass away among your people, painlessly, not torn apart by an ogre. Grey Warden's lead hard, dangerous lives. I fear that it's a life you're not prepared for.

I turned to Duncan. "Would you recruit me?"

Marethari looked shocked. A small smile crossed Duncan's face. "Yes. Given your skill and how well you've resisted the taint, I've no doubt that you have the mettle to become a fine Grey Warden. I won't lie. Ours is a life of duty and sacrifice, but much like your clan we look out for each other."

I nodded. "Then I volunteer."

Marethari grabbed my shoulder, a pained expression on her face. "Da'len, are you sure this is what you want? I've no desire to see you die so young, but I would spare you a life as hard as the one before you."

I forced a smile. "My best friend is dead, killed by OUR people's magic, tainted by the darkspawn. To lay down and die when a chance to live and strike back at them is available would be an insult to Tamlen's memory." Marethari started, as if struck. I felt sick. I'd chosen those words to shame her, to get her to back down. _I may regret them in the days to come. You may be right, that I'd rather spend what time I have left with the clan. _

Duncan clasped his hands behind his back. "Will you permit me to recruit him, Keeper? I have no desire to go against your wishes. The fact remains, however, that we need good Wardens, and this young man has the most potential I've seen in a long while." _Looks like I'm not the only one fighting dirty. _As a Grey Warden, he'd no doubt seen knights in tourneys with years of experience doing nothing but whack at their peers with bits of metal. _Regardless, he hasn't even SEEN me fight. _

Marethari sighed and shook her head sadly. "Very well. If the both of you are set on this, I will not stop you." I winced inwardly. _Fighting wheedling with a guilt trip. Ouch. _

Duncan nodded respectfully, unperturbed. "Thank you, Keeper." He turned to me. "Gather your things and say your goodbyes. We leave in the morning." I saw a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

In the end, I never did say goodbye to most of the clan. I left a note for Merril, something I regret to this day. At the time, however, I couldn't stomach the idea of bidding her farewell, perhaps for good. I made the note noncommittal, and reasoned that so long as I didn't say goodbye, there was a chance I could come back one day. I left a less personal note at our craftsman, apologizing for not returning the bow he had allowed me to borrow. I wasn't going to break into his stores to get a different one, and I was loathe to part with it in any case. I had a feeling I was going to need it in the days to come.

My Mother was the one exception.

Duncan and I left at first-

* * *

"Hey!"

Aegnor halted, confused. "What?"

Varric sputtered. "What happened to 'I won't leave out anything important'?!"

Aegnor raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? I heard you tried to do just that with Cassandra when she interrogated you."

"Hey, she also dragged me from the Hanged Man, brutalized me, and stabbed me in the book," He scoffed." I have done none of those things, thank you very much!"

"Don't you mean, 'stabbed you in the back'?"

Varric sighed. "No, I mean book." Aegnor opened his mouth to say something, then just shook his head. "Yeah, I had the same reaction. And she wonders why you didn't want to talk to her."

Aegnor gave a bark of laughter. "As ironic as it'd be for me to take out my frustrations on a Chantry loyalist instead of the other way around, we don't have time for me to disabuse whatever notions she has about me."

"Whereas I am both charming and understanding! C'mon, Wildfire, something uplifting would be a nice change of pace!"

"Fine. Tell me Bianca's story, and I'll call it even."

Varric sputtered. "How did you-"

Aegnor's mouth quirked upwards. "I met Hawke, remember? The only time he mentioned you without a trace of fondness was when he said 'That cheeky dwarf published my life story, calls me his best friend, and he still won't tell me about that damned crossbow'. A bit cold, if you ask me."

Varric sighed irritably. "Ach! Evil elf. I knew there was a reason the human's didn't like you."

"Well, there's more to it than that. Ordinary elves, they just don't let into the skirt-and-bucket brigade. Aegnor smiled humorlessly and jabbed a finger at his chest. "Me? They'd like nothing more than to draw and quarter me in Val Royeaux."

"Yeah…" Varric rubbed the back of his neck. "Hawke's in the same boat, unfortunately. Ach, not my point! So are you going to tell me what your mother told you, or am I going to have to make that shit up?"

Aegnor leaned back, a more genuine smile on his face. "What you'll say is… 'those words are the only words he kept to himself, that no one might know the strength he carried'.

"… You've got a bigger flair for the dramatic than _I_ do."

"Heh. Says the dwarf that that has guardsmen doing backflips in full armor."

"Everyone's a critic." Varric pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "You gonna keep going, or are you going to keep insulting my books?"

* * *

Duncan and I left at first light, while the clan was still sleeping. Neither of us was in a talkative mood, and any remote desire I had to ask questions was quashed by the brutal pace he set. His long legs and seemingly limitless stamina outstripped me easily, despite my youth and hunter's endurance, and I found myself out of breath for much of the first day.

When we finally stopped to make camp, my legs were cramping and my blisters felt like they'd grown blisters. I wolfed down more of my supplies than I should have, seeing as I had no idea when we were going to stop to resupply, and sought the comfort of my bedroll.

Well after the moon had set, I was introduced to what I believe is my least favorite reality of traveling in small groups: watch rotations. I protested bitterly, not used to sleeping for less than eight hours, but Duncan was adamant. In retrospect, I believe he showed some small form of mercy in allowing me to sleep for more than half of the night. When I asked him about it, he made light of it, saying that people need less sleep as they grow older, and attributing the rest to being a Grey Warden. I questioned him incessantly about what else there was to being a Grey Warden, to which he refused to say more than "you'll see". After the second hour of marching, I gave up, too hard pressed to keep up with him.

While the pace he set was brutal, I won't deny that it was effective. By the end of the third day, we'd made it from the northern edge of the Brecilian Forest to Lake Calenhad.

* * *

Varric nodded. "That was when you first met Ellerina, right?"

"Shh. I was getting to that."

* * *

When we made it over the last hill, I gaped. "Is- what _is _that?!"

Duncan chuckled. I imagine that the look on my face was nothing short of priceless. "That is Kinloch Hold, better known as the Ferelden Circle of Magi." Towering over Lake Calenhad, Kinloch hold was easily the largest building I'd seen up to that point, short of the one in my vision, and it was a far more impressive sight with the lake around it glittering in the setting sun. Backlit as it was, it seemed indomitable, foreboding, timeless. I realized that my mouth had been open for the last minute or so and closed it with an audible click.

The town by the lake, however, was a more mundane affair. I turned to Duncan, a questioning look on my face. "Why is the town here so small? You'd think there'd be more to it."

"And why do you say that?"

I frowned, thinking. "Well, that tower is downright _massive. _It looks like there could be hundreds of people living there, and the only way to get there is a rowboat!" I said, pointing at the dingy moored by the dock. "Creators, how would you get enough food there to eat? You'd need to make ten trips a day!"

Duncan stroked his beard thoughtfully. Despite how bushy it was, I'd never actually seen him do it, and the sight fascinated me more than it should have. "Hm. I've never given it much thought. There may be a supply line they keep hidden from those outside the Chantry, to keep it from being targeted."

I scoffed. "Who'd risk that? A tower full of mages and tin plated zealots doesn't seem like the best group to piss off."

Duncan shrugged. "I have no answers. Grey Wardens don't pry into Chantry business as a rule, especially with relations as strained as they are."

I furrowed my brow. That didn't sound good. "Relations are strained?" I asked, attempting to keep the worry out of my voice. I failed, badly.

He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. With the Grey Wardens in such high esteem with the King, they won't dare attack us."

"Wait, _dare _attack us? So they'd attack us willingly?"

Duncan grimaced. "I ask that you keep such thoughts to yourself while we're staying in the tower, but 'tin plated zealot' isn't a bad description for some Templars. That the Grey Warden's authority trumps their own in some areas is galling, considering that our ranks are home to many of the criminals they vilify."

"Like Blood Magic?" I asked.

He eyed me carefully. "Yes, like Blood Magic. It affects darkspawn like any other form of magic. I'd ask that you not bring _that _up either." I shrugged, not particularly bothered. From what I'd heard, a lot of regular magic was fueled by Lyrium, and if a glowing blue rock that can liquefy your brain inside your skull is permitted, I couldn't see why Blood Magic was any more dangerous. _Squeamishness, probably. _I didn't think it would be hard to call people who slit their wrists for power "evil".

I let my ears tune out as Duncan spoke with the man who owned the little boat at the docks, admiring the view. I noticed more than one strange look out of the corner of my eye from the humans living at the lakeside. I couldn't deny that I looked odd to them, and after my display upon seeing Kinloch Hold, I wasn't about to judge_._ It was doubtful that any of them had even seen a Dalish Elf, and I was well aware that most elves living with humans didn't dare walk as tall as I did, nor carry weapons so openly. Strangely, I saw some of the women looking at me and blushing. Not knowing what to make of that, and more than a little uncomfortable, I decided to ignore them entirely. Thankfully, Duncan managed to secure us passage, and soon we were gliding steadily across the lake.

* * *

"Just a minute, Wildfire, women made you uncomfortable?"

Aegnor looked confused. "Well, yes."

"No shit?" Aegnor nodded, a look of irritation growing on his face. Varric chortled delightedly. "HA! Every story I've heard about you paints you as a lady killer from birth!"

Aegnor gave an exasperated sigh. "Whoever made up those stories about me had better hope I never get my hands on them!" He growled.

"You sure? I always enjoyed the one that paired you with the Grand Cleric in Denerim. It had a nice, slow pace. Perfect for romance."

"… Moving on."

* * *

The Circle of Magi was much as I'd pictured it, if scaled down from my overactive imagination. Sterile stone construction, walls of books and mage noses buried therein, and all sorts of fascinating apparatus whose function escaped me, yet fascinated me to no end. The only one I thought I recognized was a distillery, though the azure smoke emanating from it made it clear that it wasn't for making hillwine. _Probably for the best. _I recalled that Marethari and Merril had never indulged. It made sense that alcohol and magic didn't mix well, though I suspected that Merril wouldn't have been permitted either way.

However, while I'd expected a certain number of Templars, what I hadn't expected was that there'd be so _many _of them. Seeing them standing at regular intervals like bucket helmed golems was nothing less than unnerving. They were the ever present reminder that they could and would kill you if they suspected you of corruption, or if you tried to leave.

They also formed an impressive contrast to the grey haired Templar bellowing at Duncan. "I will NOT let one of those savages into the tower!"

Duncan remained impassive. I wondered if it was out of stoicism, or being used to people throwing tantrums. "He's a Grey Warden, Greagoir, if only recently. As his Commander, I'll take full responsibility for his actions." He said soothingly. Saying that I was a full Grey Warden was a lie he'd said was necessary. Given the knee jerk reaction towards a Dalish Elf. Oh, sorry, I meant a "savage".

Greagoir, who I gathered was in charge of the Circle, was unconvinced. "The last one of his kind we let in here made off with a number of priceless artifacts that can never be replaced!" He spat, glaring daggers at me.

I smirked, I couldn't help it. "And how many of those artifacts belonged to the Ancient Elves, hm?"

He started to reply hotly, before Duncan came between the two of us. "There's no need for that. So long as _you both_," He glared at both of us, "remain civil, we can be out of here far sooner."

I smiled, though it did not reach my eyes. "I don't know if I'm capable of being nice. I am a 'savage' after all."

Needless to say, things got heated.

In the end, First Enchanter Irving had to step in to keep the head of the bucket-helm brigade from forcibly ejecting me. He seemed like a useful guy to have in an argument. His voice could sedate an angry bear. While angry that I would have to let Greagoir's comment slide, I was inwardly relieved. I didn't doubt that Greagoir would make good on his threat. As a Knight-Commander, his sway was considerable, and Duncan would've been forced to acquiesce to avoid an incident.

Grudgingly, he ordered one of his men to show me to the guest quarters. Duncan would remain to discuss whatever business he had with the Circle of Magi, on the condition that I would be confined to my room until we left. I didn't protest it. After three days of hard marching, I was dead on my feet.

One of the benefits of having a shouting match with the Knight-Commander was that I was an instant celebrity. I caught a lot of stares from Mages and Templars alike, some fearful, some admiring, others accusing. Nearly all of them averted their gaze when they realized I'd noticed them. The one exception was… rather surprising, to say the least.

She was a little slip of a girl, easily shorter than I was, and her long black hair falling over her face made her seem even younger. A rather baggy robe hung loosely off of her shoulders, though the collar was sized correctly. All in all, she seemed to be the least visible of anyone I'd seen here. Her look was timid as well, but there was something else there, almost speculative. I slowed to get a better look at her, then cursed as my escort didn't bother to wait for me. Bloody long legged shemlen.

Thankfully, we were only a couple floors up. Any more stairs, and my legs would've collapsed underneath me. I locked the door and flopped down on the bed, not bothering to undress. The stiff mattress and sword strapped to my back gave me immediate cause to regret my decision. Groaning, I unbuckled the strap and set it aside before lying back again. I whispered a prayer to Falon'Din for Tamlen, as I'd done the past three nights, and let the tears come. It wasn't long before I drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Aegnor smiled wryly. "It's funny to think about how different she was then from when I last saw her." He reminisced. "That was before… well, everything."

"What I would've given to have seen it. The wild elf and the timid little mage that would save Ferelden." Varric said, already envisioning how he would spin it as a story.

Aegnor shook his head ruefully. "If someone had told me what would happen after we became Wardens, I would've laughed in their face."

"You said 'when I last saw her'. When was that?" Varric asked.

Aegnor's smile grew strained. "It was… Creators, it was two years ago." He said, almost in a whisper.

Varric raised an eyebrow. "That long ago? When you showed up, a lot of us were hoping that she'd be right behind you. The two of you were off the radar for quite a while, so if anyone'd know where she is, it's you."

Aegnor's eyes were downcast. "Yes, I suppose that's right. I'm probably the last one alive who saw her."

Varric perked up, his curiosity piqued. "C'mon Wildfire, you've gotta give me a hint! Where was she headed?"

Aegnor's mouth quirked despite himself. "What happened to 'I won't skip ahead'?"

Varric shrugged shamelessly. "Even I have my limits. The Seeker wouldn't have made it five minutes."

"She was headed to Kirkwall, to see if she could repair the Veil. Alone, admittedly, but if anyone could have pulled it off, it was her."

Varric snorted. "Good luck with that! Mages could summon demons with a sneeze _before _Blondie blew up the Chantry! You said yourself that you'd need a shitload of Lyrium and Mages to make it happen."

Aegnor forced a smile. "Yeah." He said, in a flat voice. "That must be why she's not back yet."

Varric blanched. "Oh, er, sorry if it's a sore topic. After all you'd been through, I don't doubt you miss her."

"It's fine. I'm just so very tired of Templars, Mages, and idiots in general causing problems and me getting a kick to the head as thanks for fixing them."

"Hawke once said something like that to me. I can't say I blame him. Everyone's sick of this shit."

* * *

I slept poorly.

My sleep had been that of the dead for the last three days. I'm thankful to Duncan for that, in a way. My body and mind were too tired for nightmares to reach me. That night, they made up for lost time. Tamlen's smiling face appeared, before shifting and twisting into a snarl, bellowing, "YOU KILLED ME!" I opened my mouth to reply, to tell him I was sorry, to tell him he was wrong, to tell him he was right, but my mouth didn't work. He shifted into Duncan, the glittering hint of satisfaction in his eyes from when I'd told him about the corpses growing until it filled my vision. The glittering grew into hundreds of faces, all mine, telling me accusingly, "You hated Tamlen!" "Yeah, it's a good thing he's dead!" "Dumb idiot, you did the clan a favor!" "If only you're stupid ass could've killed him without getting tainted!" "Yeah, you can't even kill someone properly!"

For what seemed like hours, they circled around me, chanting with growing creativity, and though I tried to cover my ears the sounds only reverberated louder in my head, as if to taunt my newfound command of my dream self. I grit my teeth and tried to tune them out, but while my arms were mine, my face was forced into a wide grin. No tears were allowed to fall, and no sobs could pass my clenched teeth. Wherever I looked, I saw a reflection of it in the chanting faces, as if I was perversely happy that my best friend was dead.

"_**You were a fool to come here, child!" **_A voice, louder and more menacing than any I'd heard, seemed to emit from inside my own skull. My face tried to screw up in pain, but was held in place. "_**The tower's wards do not protect one such as you!" **_I wheeled around, trying to find whoever was speaking. Though they didn't help, my hands refused to leave my ears. With tremendous effort, I forced myself to speak, though my mouth still couldn't move.

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

"_**You wish to see me? The gall! The audacity! The PRIDE! That such a tasty morsel offers itself to me is too tempting to refuse!" **_I tried to respond hotly, only to gasp. _What… _Thud. _Is… _Thud. _That?! _Parting the sea of faces was what I could only describe as a monster. Black spines jutted from mottled purple skin, with too-big arms and too-small legs. A horned head, with too many eyes and a mouth full of canines. And a wreath of emerald flames and flickering lightning lit it from below, giving it a demonic cant. I barely registered my face unfreezing to gasp. The reason became clear when it was mirrored on the faces surrounding us. My look of abject terror was his to enjoy at his leisure, for as long as he wished.

_A demon. _No magic froze my legs. It was fear. "I-I'm no mage you can possess, fiend!" I cried, my voice sounding very small indeed.

"_**No mage?" **_He said, amusement somehow plain on his face. _**You burn bright, brighter than any in this pitiful tower! Not even a Tevinter Magister could hide you from me! **_Finally, I managed to stumble back, mind racing. _I burn bright? What could that mean?! Magic manifests at a young age, it can't be that I'm a mage! _Wait. _**"Just let me in, and the world will be yours! The taint within you will recede, you will elevate your people above the humans who think that magics stolen from you belong to them! **_I shook my head, trying to deny what he was saying, even as a fierce pride within my chest rose as if physically pulled, begging me, _demanding _that I say yes.

I opened my mouth and began to form the word yes. Its eyes widened in triumph as it rushed forward, only to widen further in shock. It wasn't as hard as denying the song of the mirror, but it was close. That the experience which had killed Tamlen gave me the strength to save myself sickened me, but it didn't stop me from pulling my sword free and driving it into the demon's chest. In that moment, the dream shattered around us, leaving the demon to flounder and me to fall.

Darkness took me.

* * *

"Warden?" I heard the words whispered, close by, and that someone could get that close without me waking was startling. _Who?! _My door had been locked from the inside!

I yanked my dagger out of its sheath and had the intruder by the throat before I was fully awake. As soon as the fog of sleep had cleared, my eyes widened in recognition. "You're the girl from the first floor, the one who didn't look away." She nodded, wide eyed. I let go of her neck and stepped back. "Why did you break into my room?"

She gulped, eyeing the dagger I was tapping against my thigh impatiently. _Good. _Another elf would've noticed how pale and shaky I was, even in a room this dark. With an effort, I pushed down the aftereffects of my nightmare and remained upright, looking at her expectantly. Again, once she caught my gaze, she didn't look away. "M-My name is Ellie Amell. I came to ask for your help."


	3. Chapter 3: A Bloody Departure

I stared at her, not quite believing my ears. _First a demon, then a human asking for my help the day she meets me… the only way this could be any more surreal is if she was a Templar. _Greagoir's outburst still rankled. Realizing she was waiting for me to say something, I cleared my throat and slid my dagger back into its sheath. "My help?" I asked. "What would a Mage need a Warden for? And why so late at night?

She chewed her lip nervously. "I'm sorry to trouble you, but there were too many people who might have been listening when you arrived."

I considered briefly, then shrugged. If I wanted to say something private, I wouldn't feel comfortable with those bucket-helmed racists looming over me. "Fair enough, but that still doesn't answer my original question."

She nodded several times and swallowed. "Yes, well, a friend of mine has gotten it into his head to do something stupid. My _best _friend, since we were kids." I raised an eyebrow. I was fresh faced, but my best guess as to her age was fourteen, certainly not old enough to receive vallaslin and become an adult.

Heedless of his musing, she rambled on. "He wants to leave, but the Templars have his phylactery," _His what? _"So he's planning on breaking into the repository-"_Huh? _"-and destroying it so he can flee. He thinks if he doesn't, he'll fail his Harrowing and the Templars will kill him!" Harrowing got his attention. I wasn't sure what it meant for Mages, but I imagined it was designed to be, well, harrowing, and apparently it's matter of life and death in this case.

She drew a breath, and I held up my hands. "Enough! I get the picture."

"Y-You understand what he's trying to do?"

"Not really, but I understand enough to know that he's going to go through with it no matter what you tell him if he thinks it's his only chance at life, and you're in the shit position of trying to help him when there's a good chance that everything goes poorly." For the first time, she dropped her gaze and nodded. Her slumped shoulders spoke of an unbelievable relief at someone understanding the mess she had been dragged into. I allowed myself a sad smile. I knew better than most the feeling of helplessness she was no doubt experiencing.

I pressed on. "So what do you want me to do about it? Tie him up and knock some sense into him?" I winced inwardly at how blunt that sounded. _Why do I want to be nice? _I'd said far worse downstairs with no regrets. So why now was I feeling _bad _about it?

Her eyes darted back up to mine with a good amount of fear. _Terrific. It looks like she's taking the offer to club her friend over the head at face value. _Finally, she shook her head rapidly. "No, he'll just try again after you leave. It's just…" She took a shuddering breath and looked back at her toes. Her next words were a whisper. "He thinks that because he's the underdog with a girl waiting for him that he can't fail. But he's not a big warrior, or a clever thief, or even a decent battlemage. He's just a stupid kid that's going to get caught and killed by the Templars." She looked at me pleadingly. "So when... _if _we get caught, I ask that you recruit us into the Grey Wardens."

I didn't think she would be capable of surprising me more than she had, but Creators was I wrong. I stiffened in place, completely stunned. _She's ASKING to be recruited? Who in their right mind would do that? _I like to think I recovered well, folding my arms and fixing her with a scowl. "And what makes you think either of you would be valuable to the Wardens? By your own admission, your friend is both impulsive and unskilled at using magic in combat, and all I know of you is that you're capable of breaking into my room." _Which, now that I think about it, is pretty useful in its own right. _

"T-There has to be something else to do in the Wardens other than fight darkspawn!" She stammered. "Magic could be used for healing, or signals, or there could be darkspawn magic we could research to better fight them! I've read about ones that were taught by the first darkspawn, the magisters that corrupted the Golden City!" When she mentioned darkspawn magic, I fought to keep my composure. _It was a darkspawn necromancer that corrupted the mirror! _There was a great deal I didn't know about it, and I doubted anyone had ever heard of a mirror that could kill you. Having someone to research such things seemed like a good way of keeping other people from being tainted as I had.

Then there was the fact that she was in the same boat as I had been. _I lost my best friend. _The thought still pained me, as if my heart were being squeezed in a vice. _She's a shem, but if I ignore her and let her feel the same pain, then I'm better off dying to the Taint. _

Coming to a decision, I smiled reassuringly. "If things go poorly, I'll recruit you. Just tell me where the place you're breaking into is, and I'll be waiting."

The smile that broke out on her face was nothing short of breathtaking. It was easily as big as Merril's whenever someone told a story with griffon's in it, full of childlike joy. I imagined mine would've been as big had I learned that Tamlen had been found, safe and sound.

I ushered her out of my room as quietly as I could and flopped back on the bed, exhausted. After a second, I bolted upright. _Creators! I'm confined to my rooms! _I panicked in the same way I would have had Marethari given the order, before realizing that it had come from a bigoted man in a skirt. I started laughing. I wondered if the Templars would end up killing me for what I was about to do, and if Duncan would be happy that he had lost a recruit to gain to. It was a morbidly happy thought. Dying so that a young girl could keep her best friend was far better an ending than I'd imagined. _Even if she is a shem. Ah, well. Nothing's perfect._

* * *

Varric grunted. "You know, I can't decide."

"Decide what?"

"If you were more morbid then as opposed to now."

Aegnor shrugged, unconcerned. "I had just lost my best friend, and thought the best I had to look forward to was being the lunch of whatever darkspawn got a lucky hit in. I like to think I'm less morbid now."

"Really? You could've fooled me. There hasn't been one moment since you got here that I could describe you as cheerful."

"I have a sense of self-preservation nowadays, and I do think this Inquisition can succeed. From what I've heard, you're preparing to approach Grand Enchanter Fiona." Aegnor said. His eyes glinted. "A shame the Templars are so difficult to contact. I suppose religious bigots have better uses for their time than saving the world."

Varric eyed Aegnor nervously. "You make me nervous sometimes, you know that? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was your fault." Aegnor smiled reassuringly, though a few too many teeth snuck in for it to have passed muster. Varric shifted uncomfortably. "It's _not _your fault, right?"

Aegnor laughed humorlessly. "I honestly don't know. The last couple years have been rather busy for me."

Varric groaned. "Perfect."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have a perfectly good reason behind killing Templars. I wish I'd started sooner."

Varric had had enough of the thinly veiled hatred. He remembered all to well what it had done to Anders. "What in the name of Andraste made you hate them so much?!" He exploded. "I know that a lot of them are jackasses, but slaughtering them isn't helping anybody! It's just going to make them desperate, and it's the people caught between them and the Mages that are going to pay the price!"

"You really want to know why?!" Aegnor spat. "Fine. It started when they tried to kill Ellie for protecting her friend."

Varric glared at him angrily, then made a noise of disgust and sat back. "What's the point of you telling me this? If you want the Inquisition to start killing Templars for you, then you're barking up the wrong tree. It isn't going to happen."

Aegnor scoffed. "This isn't about Templars, no matter how important they make themselves out to be! This isn't even about why I hate them, though it would be nice if someone could understand me without being an abomination that blew up a Chantry!"

"So what is it about?!"

"IT'S ABOUT THE TRUTH!" Aegnor bellowed, rising from his chair. The force of it flung Varric into the back of his chair, and he grunted in pain as it reverberated off of the walls. "The Breach is just a symptom of the greater sickness! You know it, and I know it! And I can't fix it alone, though believe me when I say you will be glad for every dead Templar before this is done. I need the Inquisition and their Herald, and I need them to follow me without question." The desperate fire in Aegnor's eyes reminded Varric of a wild animal trapped in a corner. "And for that to happen, I need one of their members, someone who they trust, to fully grasp the nightmare that is coming."

"And that's… me? Hate to break it to you, Wildfire, but I'm closer to our mascot than our leader. You'd be better off with The Seeker, or Leliana. I'm just a storyteller who's famous because of Hawke."

Aegnor laughed. "And that's why I asked for you. Even after the better part of a decade wading through the most unbelievable events, you managed to fit the pieces together and look at the bigger picture of what happened. I need you to do the same here. To put it all together, to reconcile it with all that has happened, and see what so many are blind to."

Varric shook his head, unconvinced. "You can't tell them yourself? You're the Hero of Ferelden! You have more sway in Thedas than most Kings!"

Aegnor nodded. "I do. Since when has that counted with Casssandra, or Cullen?" _Sod, he has a point._ "Leliana will likely believe me, but she has a history with me, and her friendship with Josephine will makes them both suspect. That leaves the Herald, and from what I hear, he trusts your counsel. You could help him make sense of it all. Then, should Leliana, yourself, the Hero of Ferelden, and the Herald of Andraste all approach the rest of your leadership believing the same wild story, that will sway them far more effectively than a recently absent Grey Warden demanding that they listen to him."

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. _It makes sense when you think about it. Still… _"So what happens if I don't believe you, and you end up wasting your time with me?"

Aegnor shrugged. "If all else fails, you'll have it all written down." He said, pointing to the stack of paper already piled in front of Varric. "Hopefully, I can have copies made, and enough people reading it will believe me to get the same result."

Varric slumped. "Fine, fine. I hope you appreciate me cramping my hand for your long-winded ass." He picked his pen back up. "So, where were we?"

"The Templars trying to kill Ellie." _Sod. _

"Could you be a bit more specific? Your exit from the tower can't be summed up in just one sentence, from what I've heard."

Aegnor reseated himself and took a sip of water. "The first part went smoothly, surprisingly enough. She, Jowan, and Lily, the latter two being her best friend and his lover respectively, broke into the repository and located his phylactery and succeeded in destroying it. Thankfully, she took the opportunity to do the same for hers and replace it with a fake. I'm not sure whose blood she used."

Varric was a storyteller. He knew where this was going. "And just as they thought they were in the clear, they realized they'd been set up, right?"

"Yep. I was waiting outside the repository, out of sight.' A small grin played out on his face. "I admit that I was a bit drunk on my rule breaking, and decided to make some mischief in the interim."

Varric chortled. "_That_, I can approve of. Mischief is good for those dour Circle Templars, keeps them on their toes."

Aegnor gave a bark of laughter, before growing subdued. "I saw them enter. I'm not sure where the Templar's spy was, but they were excellent at remaining unseen. Within minutes, Greagoir and Irving had arrived with a dozen Templars in tow. Duncan arrived soon afterwards, and I took advantage of the gathering crowd to make my way to him."

"He didn't wonder why you were out of your room?"

"I told him what had happened, and played up Ellie's skill with magic. He wasn't pleased, but he said that he'd vouch for my presence, and agreed that she'd make a fine recruit."

"And Jowan?"

"I don't doubt he would've refused, but given what happened next, it was rendered rather moot."

* * *

The Templars refused point blank to allow me past their semicircle surrounding the door, so I was forced to find a Templar short enough to let me see over their head. Thankfully, there was a grizzled chap who was only a few inches past five feet. I wondered idly how he had made it into the Templars being that short, when I realized that his shoulders would be almost twice the width of mine without armor on. He was probably their portable battering ram.

He didn't dignify my presence with so much as a sniff. He was probably embarrassed that there was an elf towering over him.

My amusement turned to ash in my mouth when the repository door opened. Ellie was the first one to stick her head out. She stiffened, her eyes wide with fear, but she didn't look surprised. She put on as brave a face as she could and walked forward.

The two following her were less composed. The chantry sister I assumed was Lily brought her hand up to her mouth as all of the blood drained from her face. "Andraste have mercy."

Jowan, a sickly looking lad with lank black hair, stumbled backwards, his hand in front of Lily. "No. No no no no no. They couldn't have found out, I made sure of it!" He turned to Ellie, desperation on his face. "You didn't tell anyone, did you? Did you?!" Slowly, she shook her head. _She's brave, I'll give her that. _That she stood by her childhood friend, even when she knew what it would cost her, was likely the most selfless thing I'd ever seen.

Greagoir stepped forward, scowling. "Sister Lily and Ellerina Amell, we find you guilty of aiding the maleficar Jowan in the destruction of his phylactery, with the intent to escape with him. Have you anything to say before we carry out our sentence?"

Lily shook her head wildly and cowered behind Jowan, as if she could deny the Templars in front of her. "He's not a maleficar, he's not! He just didn't want to die in his Harrowing!"

Jowan glared at the Templars, his desperation giving him some measure of courage. "I won't let you hurt her! I won't!"

Ellie placed a hand on Jowan's shoulder. "C-Come on, Jowan. Don't leave me to face this on my own." She stammered. She looked at the Templars fearfully. "I didn't do this to escape. I did it because I didn't want my friend to die."

If any of this moved Greagoir, he didn't show it. "If that is all, then I would like to thank the First Enchanter for uncovering these crimes." Irving inclined his head, though the ancient mage looked genuinely sorrowful at the state of affairs.

Greagoir turned to address the cowering trio. "Sister Lily, you will be transported to Denerim to be judged by the Grand Cleric. Ellerina and Jowan, in light of your destruction of phylacteries and attempting to escape the tower, I hereby sentence the both of you to death." Greagoir gestured sharply. At his signal, half of the Templars moved forward, naked blades in their hands, while the other half remained behind.

I looked at Duncan desperately, but he seemed torn between gaining a mage recruit and antagonizing the Chantry. Irving gave no indication that he could or would speak against the proceedings, and Greagoir was a racist prick to whom duty was paramount. He would kill them without shedding a tear.

Somehow, Ellie's stormy blue eyes found my green ones, pleading, beseeching. _You promised. _I started as I realized what it must look like to her. Here I was, about to let her and her friend die, when I had promised just last night that I would recruit them and save them both.

As I opened my mouth to say the fateful words, Jowan pulled an unseen dagger across his wrist. Blood surged forth from the cut, far more than should have been possible. It pooled in his palm, coalescing into a growing sphere. The display stunned even the Templars, halting them momentarily as Jowan bellowed in a voice too deep and powerful to have been his, almost as if a demon and he were speaking as one. "LEAVE HER ALONE!" With a cry, he swept his hand out in front of him, the sphere in his palm warping into an impossibly long sanguine blade. I froze, rooted to the floor, at the sight of six seasoned warriors in heavy armor being thrown back like ragdolls, blood spurting from the cuts Jowan inflicted only to be absorbed into his own.

His supply of blood augmented, he lashed out at those who had remained behind before any of the other Templars could bring their abilities to bear. Instead of forming a distinct blade, he allowed it to strike us as a shower of red droplets, each one feeling like a thrown rock striking us. The sheer volume was enough to blast all of us, Duncan and I included, off of our feet. I grunted as I hit the stone floor and skidded to a halt, not wanting to open my eyes and see the devastation. _So this is why they fear blood magic. _The skin crawling wetness dripping off of me was hot and pungent, the coppery taste of blood in my mouth forming an unholy union with the stench of it all.

Groaning, I forced my eyes open and wiped the blood from my face as best I could before rising unsteadily. The stone floor was slick with blood, as were my boots, making my footing treacherous. Not trusting myself to avoid slipping and injuring myself on the heavier blade, I drew my dagger instead of my sword and looked up from my feet. What I saw made my blood run cold.

Of the fifteen that had been present to witness or carry out the Chantry's justice, I was the only one on their feet. None stirred. Even Duncan, as much as he seemed carved from stone and just as durable, made no movement. Ellie and Lily cowered behind the figure that had once been Jowan. Ellie had summoned a multitude of glowing spheres that whizzed around her. I wasn't sure if that would have done any good against this monster.

Jowan stood tall, no longer slouched or stooping his head, and the blood that had run from his wrist had somehow stopped, leaving the large cut there gaping open, like some sort of perverse fish. I thought him spent and had started to make my way towards him as quickly as I was able, only to watch, horrified, as he recalled the blood he had thrown at us. The sickening sensation of it squelching out of my hair, my clothing, every tiny little crevice it had gotten into made me want to retch. The blood coalesced into around him in an undulating sphere, interspersed with large gaps. _Why would he leave himself open to attack? _I fingered the dagger in my hand, testing its weight for throwing.

The reason he left himself open, of course, was to gloat. "_**WELL NOW, IT SEEMS THAT MOUSE WASN'T LYING. A BIT OF THE OLD BLOOD, COME TO PLAY WITH THE MAGELINGS." **_His piercing gaze and knowing smile chilled me. He smirked at the dagger in my hands. _**"IT LOOKS LIKE HE'S STRONG ENOUGH TO TRY PLAYING WITH ME, TOO. A SHAME NO ONE ELSE IS FEELING UP TO IT." **_He said, tsking mockingly at the unmoving Templars.

The reality of my situation struck me belatedly, and I felt myself begin to panic. _This isn't a dream, or a nightmare. This is real, and I don't have any way of stopping him. _Cold sweat replaced the blood Jowan had reclaimed, pouring down my face. A small portion of me gave into hysterical laughter. A dozen Templars, and _I _was the one who had stood up.

With an effort, I forced down the panicking portion of my brain and brought my cold logic to bear. _Keep him talking, see if you can find an opening, _it told me. "What do you want?" I asked, sounding far more calm than I actually was. Logic could only do so much. I hoped desperately he didn't notice how badly my knees were shaking.

And amused smile flickered across Jowan's face. _**"WHAT DO I WANT? NOTHING MORE THAN TO FULFILL MY NATURE. WHATEVER YOU WISH, WHATEVER YOU DESIRE, IS MINE TO GRANT IF ONLY YOU LET ME IN."**_He smiled a too-wide smile. _**"IF YOU WANT TO BE DIFFICULT, I CAN BE PATIENT. I'LL JUST START KILLING THE POOR DEARS ON THE FLOOR IN FRONT OF ME. I IMAGINE YOU CARE LITTLE FOR THE TEMPLARS: I'LL EVEN MAKE THEIR COMMANDER'S DEATH EXTRA GRISLY, JUST FOR YOU!" **_He walked forward, unconcerned, and stooped when he reached Duncan's body, grabbing a hank of his hair and pulling him up. _**"WHEN I MOVE ONTO THE DEAR GREY WARDEN, HOWEVER… THERE GOES YOUR ONE CHANCE AT LIVING, RIGHT?" **_

A bolt of clarity struck me. _I'm going to die if I don't do something. _It seemed so pointless, so absurd that I had survived what killed Tamlen, only to let myself die here. Adrenaline flooded me, demanding that I either fight or flee. Keeping Duncan alive demanded that I fight.

I flicked my eyes towards Ellie and jerked my head towards Jowan, praying that she understood. Tears running down her cheeks, she nodded. The demon straightened and began to open its damnable mouth when a barrage of arcane missiles threaded their way through the blood and slammed into its back.

It growled and tried to summon more blood to shield itself, hiding him completely from view, but judging by Ellie's intense look of concentration and the piercing howls that continued to come from Jowan's throat, it wasn't enough. I reversed the dagger in my grip and grabbed it by the blade, cocking my arm back. My brow furrowed in concentration. _There's no way I can hit him with all of this blood! _I hadn't practiced with a knife nearly as much as I had my bow, but there was no time to string it. After a moment's hesitation, I breathed a prayer to Andruil.

I can't rightly explain what happened afterwards. I was no longer thinking about aim, or distance, or even how sodding terrified I was. Time slowed down. I saw only the right throw, and the right time. I lined my arm up, waiting for my mind to click.

One heartbeat. _Not yet. _More screams from within the blood.

Two heartbeats. _Not yet. _The demon wearing Jowan's skin lashed out blindly with blood, catching Ellie's ankle. She shrieked as it pulled her to the floor.

Three heartbeats. _Not yet. _Face now contorted with savage glee, the demon called more blood away from its defenses and moved in for the kill.

Four heartbeats. _Now. _Without hesitation, I threw my dagger.

The strange state of mind faded as I saw it in flight, and I looked on in horror. The blood had reformed over Jowan's face. I had judged it wrong. I slumped in defeat, until I saw a tiny window forming as the demon called even more of its resources towards Ellie. The blade slipped through the tiny window and sank directly into Jowan's heart.

The blood surrounding him splashed to the floor as he stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise, nerveless fingers groping desperately at the hilt jutting from his chest. I let out a sigh of relief and walked towards him, drawing my sword as I did so. I turned towards Ellie, the sorrow on her face mirroring my own. "I'm sorry." She sank back down to the floor and buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. I grimaced, sickened by what I had to do. _Cut off the head. Whatever spark of life left by the demon will flee, like it did before. _I shifted my blade into a two handed grip, swallowed, and struck.

Jowan's arm lashed out and caught my wrist. Too stunned to react, my eyes widened as his other hand closed into a fist and collided with the side of my head with far more force than the scrawny mage should have possessed. Stars danced in front of my eyes as I crashed to the floor. Something warm and wet trickled down my scalp.

The demon glared down at me, rage plain on Jowan's face. _**"I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!" **_Murderous, he raised a hand and thrust it towards me. I closed my eyes and waited for the end.

It never came. I dimly heard the demon cursing. From what I could hear, it too weakened from keeping Jowan alive to call forth more power. A bright flash of light blinded me, searing my eyes even when lidded, and I drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

Varric looked stunned. Glad for the reprieve, Aegnor took another long drink and cleared his throat. Eventually, Varric found the words to speak. "Holy shit, Wildfire. You have worse luck with blood magic than Hawke. Even he made it a year before one tried to kill him."

Aegnor grunted. "I'd blame it on the Amells, but this shit happens even when they're not around."

"I take it you didn't recruit Jowan after that display."

"Nope."

* * *

I came to a couple of minutes later. The groans and cries of pain told me that the others were starting to wake up as well. _That's good._ I wasn't sure if they would wake up after what the demon had done to them. That I survived crazy shit was no indication of whether or not anyone else would survive.

A hand filled my vision, breaking me out of my reverie. Twisting my head and wincing as pain shot through it, I saw that it belonged to Duncan, his face grim. I tried to rise without his aid, only to fall back and hiss in pain. Reluctantly, I took his hand and made it to my feet, swaying dangerously.

The Templars were milling around in confusion. One of them was allowing the First Enchanter to lean on him. The aged Mage had not been armored in any way, and had consequently fared worse than the bucket-helm brigade. Three others tended to the half dozen Templars whose blood Jowan had used. One had restrained Lily, and the last one was helping the Knight-Commander to his feet. I frowned. I cast about for my sword, feeling relieved when I saw it only a few feet to my right. I retrieved it and let it hang loosely in my grip, unsure if I should be armed in front of a dozen Templars, and unwilling to allow the comforting weight out of my grip.

The Knight Commander was cursing. "Flames! I…" He stopped and coughed, spitting out blood and mucus. "I _knew _he was a maleficar! But this… how was he capable of all this?!"

He spun about, as if one of his men would have the answer. He glared at the First Enchanter, who was still semiconscious in his Templar's grip. He turned his fury upon Lily next, who shrank away from him. "I didn't know he was a blood mage, I swear. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit."

Greagoir looked ready to spit hot coals, and for a second I thought he meant to murder her on the spot. Finally, he made a noise of disgust and threw up his hands. "I will do my duty and deliver you to the Grand Cleric. Be grateful. Were it up to me, you would be executed." He cursed. "Thanks to you, we have a powerful abomination on the loose and no way to track him!"

Finally, his eyes found Ellie, still weeping on the floor. He pointed to her. "Cressley, execute the accomplice. We will need an example after what has happened here. "He said coldly, addressing the Templar who had helped him to his feet.

Cressley inclined his head. "Ser." He drew his sword and walked casually towards Ellie. Had I not heard what was said, I would have thought he meant to help her up as he had the Knight-Commander. With a chill, I realized just how little qualm the Templars had with killing their charges.

My feet moved without me realizing it, closing the distance quickly despite how unsteady I was. I caught his downward stroke on my own sword, the force of it bringing me to my knees. His posture indicated shock at my actions. He glanced uncertainly back at Greagoir.

Taking advantage of the confusion, I fulfilled my promise. "I, Aegnor Mahariel of the Grey Wardens, invoke the Right of Conscription on Ellerina Amell of the Ferelden Circle of Magi. From this moment forth, she is under our authority and our protection." I glared the Templar who had tried to kill Ellie with the same emotions I would have chopping wood. "And I would appreciate it if you would not try to kill my recruit!"

Greagoir's eyes bulged. "You DARE?!" He bellowed. "Duncan! Does he act with your authority?" The Templar standing in front of me lowered his sword arm awkwardly.

Duncan, looking both amused and annoyed that he would have to stand by his earlier declaration of me as a Grey Warden, nodded. "He does, and he is well within the rights of the Order. Regardless of her crimes, that girl is now absolved of her crimes." I was surprised at how readily he was taking my side. After a brief moment, I realized that if he had come here for a recruit, I had inadvertently gained him one. The thought bothered it me more than it should have, but the look of satisfaction in Duncan's eyes was something I had come to mistrust.

Greagoir looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. I like to imagine that he was remembering his demand that I be confined to my rooms when Irving finally spoke up. "The child is no blood mage, Greagoir. She is… _was _one of my best students. Let her join the Wardens. And you," He said, looking at Duncan and I balefully. "You would be well served to leave the tower after a healer has taken a look at you. I doubt further discussion will prove fruitful, in light of recent events. We must look to our own affairs for the time being."

Duncan nodded graciously and gestured to myself and Ellie. "See their healer and gather your things. Meet me here in an hour." _I wonder if taking things in stride is part of becoming a Grey Warden. _I discarded the thought. _I guess it's a side effect of any lifestyle that involves fighting inhuman monstrosities. That four corpses had come to life and attacked me didn't seem to faze him, either. _

It took me a few seconds to realize I was still kneeling on the ground, sword drawn. Groaning, I stood back up, the lack of adrenaline making me acutely aware of the pain in muscles I didn't know I had.

Looking down at Ellie, I realized that she was in a far worse state than I was. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her head was down. I doubted she had noticed the Templar trying to kill her. I put a hand on her shoulder and eased her up from the floor. "Come on. It's okay." She shook her head and hung limp in my arms.

I tried again, speaking in the same voice I'd used to calm animals back with my clan. "Shh, hey, listen to me. I know how much it hurts." He looked at me with red rimmed eyes, not believing me. "Just do one thing for me. Put one foot in front of the other. It'll help. Not much, but it'll help. Can you do that?" She nodded hesitantly and she took some of her weight off of me, allowing me to lead her towards the healer tending to the wounded.

Inwardly, I cursed myself. _Fenedhis lasa, what have I gotten myself into? I'm tainted, I've pissed off the most powerful religion in Thedas, two demons have attacked me in as many days, and I'm signed up to kill monsters for the rest of my life until one kills me! _I sighed heavily. _And now I have to keep a little girl alive and help her get her head on straight._

I shot a reproachful look at Ellie, though I knew it wasn't her fault. _Your Maker has a shit sense of humor, shem. _

Strangely, it never occurred to me that I could refuse to help her. I sat her down next to the healer and asked that she be tended to first, heedless of the blood running from my scalp.

* * *

I was planning on it taking a lot longer for Aegnor to get under Varric's skin. When I started writing it, though, I realized that Varric of all people would be infuriated by what he's implying, seeing as he's a believer in people and all he sees Aegnor doing is making things harder for them.

As for the Jowan scene, I felt that there were too many holes in the original origin story. Even with blood magic, I don't buy Jowan overpowering Greagoir, Irving, and everyone else there with a single spell just because he read about it. And where the hell did he go? Did he swim? Being an abomination strikes me as a good way of ironing a lot of those out. Hell, look at what Connor did to Redcliffe when possessed by a Desire Demon, and he was just a kid.

Sorry for the shorter chapter. Reviews are the lifeblood of any writer, so if you liked it, didn't like it, or if it kicked your dog, leave a review and I'll work to improve!


	4. Chapter 4: A Piece of the Puzzle

The first day was hellish for Ellie.

One of the consequences of living in a building for your entire life is being wholly unused to walking, and instead of proper traveling boots, she had light shoes better suited for a classroom than traveling cross country. While she was competent in healing magic, there is only so much one can do to alleviate the soreness.

Adding to her misery was the fact that not only was her best friend possessed by a demon, the man who had tried to kill him (me) was one of her traveling companions. For all we knew, I had succeeded, and the demon had simply continued to inhabit his corpse. Looking back, I admit that I was less than sensitive in this regard. Not quite believing my luck with that throw, I had taken to trying to hit various targets I set myself with my dagger. After nearly snapping the blade on a rock and enduring a long-suffering look from Duncan, I decided that it had been sheer luck and stopped trying to replicate it. I can only imagine what was going through her head, seeing the same motion as before out of the corner of her eye for the umpteenth time that day.

Duncan, of course, was his usual quiet self. As a consequence, I don't think she spoke a single word that day. Thankfully, I'd finished woolgathering by the time we stopped to camp. Even a young, prejudiced Dalish elf wasn't heartless enough to leave her be. First, though, I had to pick up some sticks.

* * *

Varric coughed made a show of cleaning out his ear. "Sorry, sorry, I heard you being begrudgingly nice to someone fine. I'm not sure why I'd hear about you picking up driftwood right after."

Aegnor gave a crooked smile. "Sticks are useful. Plenty of old Dalish tricks that require you to draw on the forest around you."

"You're shitting me."

"About the Dalish tricks? Absolutely. Sticks are useful though."

Varric snorted. "Have we gotten to the point where you consider gathering firewood important? Will some lyrium blessed stick turn out to be what caused the Breach?"

Aegnor gives Varric a long suffering look. "No, smart ass. One of those sticks _did _save Ellie's life, though."

"What?!"

* * *

The first problem we encountered was that Ellerina didn't have a tent. We had left the tower as soon as we were able, and we hadn't dared to press the Knight-Commander for supplies.

Having slept outside on more than one occasion when on longer hunts, I gave her mine. She shot me a guarded look and muttered "thank you" before sinking to the ground in front of the fire and staring into it. I smiled. It was something. _Nice to have someone with magic around, too. _Even a consummate traveler like Duncan can take a while to get a proper fire going, whereas magic is instantaneous.

I sat across from her and picked through the sticks I had picked up, most of which were about three feet in length. I discarded those with a bit of rot and those with odd kinks. After stripping the bark from them and inspecting them further, I ended up with two that were suitable. I left one by my pack, pulled out my dagger, and began to whittle my chosen stick.

* * *

"Chosen stick? Now you're just making fun of me."

"Maybe just a little."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

I almost let go of my chosen stick-

* * *

"You're an ass."

"Hush, or I'll hit you with my chosen stick."

"I swear, you bullshit worse than Aveline."

"Hey, that was uncalled for!"

"I think I liked it better when you were moody."

"…"

"Scratch that, I liked it better when you weren't here."

* * *

I almost dropped my stick at the sound of Ellie's voice. Even as rusty as it sounded after so long without speaking, it was a stark contrast to Duncan.

I looked up from what I was doing and shrugged. "Just finishing up my tool for hitting you."

Her eyes widened and she flinched. "W-What?"

I nodded. "Yep." I cleaned off my dagger, sheathed it, and stalked over to a small clearing next to our campsite. "Now grab your staff. There's some things we're going to work on."

She hesitated, still unsure. Thankfully, the backbone she'd shown when she broke into my room was still there, and she did as I asked.

I took the time she had her back turned to test the balance of my new weapon. It wasn't perfect, but it would work for what I had in mind.

She walked up and stood across from me, staff in her hand. "S-So, what are we d-doing exactly?"

I rose up on the balls of my feet and got into a combat stance. "I'm going to hit you, and you're going to use that staff to block. If you can stop me by hitting me first, that's good too."

She took an involuntary step back. "Wh-" I lunged forward before she could speak and struck overhand. She yelped and let her staff fall from her hands. My next strike was little more than a tap, and still managed to knock her on her ass.

I shook my head disapprovingly. "Lesson one: NEVER drop your weapon when someone is trying to kill you." I stepped forward and offered her a hand. She took it hesitantly, and I yanked her back onto her feet. "Lesson two: the fight isn't over when you get knocked on your ass. Now again."

She tried to protest, only to be cut off and forced to defend herself. She managed to block two of my basic strikes before she was, yet again, disarmed. I danced in and rapped her on the collarbone. "Dead." She flushed, looking both angry and embarrassed. I was merciless. "Again."

We continued for a few more rounds, until I threw up my hands in disgust. "Fenedhis lasa! Enough. I should just let the darkspawn eat you."

"Darkspawn?"

I glared at her. "Yes, darkspawn. That world ending menace we have human mages to thank for? It's your job to fight them now, and as you are, you'll be killed by the first one that takes a swing at you. Your magic isn't worth shit if you can't parry the most basic attacks." I continued back and forth with her for a while, needling her, belittling her, and reinforcing the idea that as she was, she was going to be nothing but darkspawn chow. Her timid nature made it difficult, but her anger towards me combined with that backbone I had glimpsed finally pushed through. I turned my back and began to walk towards the campfire, saying I had wasted my time, when she whacked me across the head with her staff.

It wasn't a hard blow. I'd received far worse. I grinned nonetheless. "Come on. You think that'll stop a darkspawn? They'll think a fly is annoying them while they gut you." She struck again, this time at a far more personal target. I parried easily and swiped back, which she managed to catch on her staff. I traded blows with her for a few seconds, before pressing her back with a flurry of textbook attacks that eventually smashed her staff into the dirt. I rapped her on the collarbone as I had before. "Dead."

The look she gave me could have stopped a bear. "If I'm just going to die, then stop hitting me! Just let the beatings stop before the darkspawn kill me!" She screamed, trying desperately not to cry. _Alright, now I should… wait, make the beatings stop?_

The cocky façade I'd put on faded as the implications hit me. I'd thought that I could make her angry, get her fired up enough to want to beat me. That was how it had worked in the clan. Make them mad enough, and they'd try their damndest to prove they weren't weak, and given the limited time I had before we reached the King's army, I needed her to practice as much as possible.

But this… _damn Templars. _I tossed my practice sword aside and grabbed ahold of her shoulders. "Hey, hey, it's okay."

She shook her head and tried to break free from my grip. "No, it's not! I helped you kill my friend, and for what? So you could keep beating me and insulting me! I should've let that Templar kill me!"

I didn't let her go. "Ellie, listen to me. I'm not like the Templars. Neither is Duncan, though he's about as expressive as a bucket helm at times." She managed a choked laugh at that. "I wanted you to get mad so you'd push back at me, even try to beat me. It's worked with everyone else I've needed to manipulate into practicing." I hung my head shamefacedly. "And I was a fool to think it would work here."

She sniffed and was quiet for a moment. "You have a shit way of caring about people. "

I winced. _She doesn't know about Tamlen, and you deserved that. _"I figured that it'd pay off when it saved your life."

I waited for her to respond to that. She never did. I sighed. "Come on. Let's warm up by the fire. I'll make some tea, and let you talk. Okay?"

"And if I don't want to say anything?"

"Then I'll make some tea." She didn't respond. Knowing full well how badly I'd erred, I continued on in silence.

* * *

Later, after she'd calmed down and had a mug of tea warming her hands, I decided it was best to try and start over. I walked over and sat next to her, close enough to talk, yet out of arms reach. "I'm sorry about what happened to your friend. I know how much it sucks."

She didn't bother to look up. "No you aren't. And no, you don't."

The quiet venom in her voice made my hair stand on end, and I could feel the bitterness coming off of her. "How would you know? It seems to me we don't know the first thing about each other."

She snorted dismissively. "You waited until the Templars were about to kill me to recruit me. If you'd recruited us beforehand-"

"I had no way of knowing that would happen!"

"You should have!" She exploded. She glared at me furiously. After a moment, she shrank back, the anger leaving her as quickly as it had come. "_I _should have-"

I cut her off. "Ellie, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. None of it was."

She looked at the fire, miserable. "I knew he was looking at some strange books. I could've checked."

"He was your friend. You trusted him, and he abused it."

"I could've told him no. At least then I wouldn't have been dragged into it."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "You're really set on beating yourself up, aren't you?" I said, as much at myself as her. She shifted away from me and huddled up into a ball. _Damn. _

I stared into the fire for a few minutes. Neither of us moved. Eventually, I broke the silence. "Friends are curious things. They're the best part of your life and they make it worth living, even in when everything else is shit. You laugh with them, you cry with them, you trust them."

No reaction. "Then one day, your friend gets a crazy idea in their head. It's not like the time you snuck a frog into someone's aravel, or anything harmless. It's something that could very well get them killed. They tell you about it, and you have no choice but to help them to try and keep them from dying, because you would hate yourself if you didn't."

"And then you're standing there, your fears realized." She whispered.

I nodded. "You tried to help, and now your only reward is being all alone."

"How-?"

"Like I said, we don't know the first thing about each other." I smiled softly. "As Grey Wardens, I guess we're all we have. Seems like we should try to get along."

She nodded nervously. "So… how does this work?"

I paused, then shifted closer and extended my hand. "Aegnor Mahariel, formerly of the Sabrae clan. Seventeen years old." _Well, almost. _

"Seventeen and a Grey Warden?"

I shook my head. "That was what Duncan told the Templars to get me a room in the Tower. I'm a recruit, same as you."

She shook my hand tentatively. "Ellerina Amell, formerly of Kinloch Hold." She hesitated. "I don't know how old I am. I think eighteen. I just went through my Harrowing, and that's usually when you come of age."

"You don't know for sure?"

She shook her head. "Most kids, they're five or six when they're brought to the Circle. I was two. I don't even remember my parents, or anything else. This is the first time I remember being outside." I sputtered in surprise. She blushed furiously and skittered away. "W-What?"

It was a few seconds before my brain could accept what she had just said. "So… you've _never _been outside? Or even seen it?"

She shook her head. "They don't have windows, or allow mages onto the roof, for fear they'll use them to escape. I've never even seen the sun before." A pause. "It's pretty."

"Huh." I hadn't thought it possible. "I guess that explains how you're dressed. Robes and shoes aren't the best for being outdoors."

She shook her head. "That wasn't the only reason."

"I'd assume they're enchanted to some degree."

"That's only for higher ranked mages." She took a deep breath. "It's so Templars wouldn't notice me." She said in a rush.

"Wha-"_Oh. _"That sort of thing is allowed?"

"No, it's just accepted. I had a friend, an elf, who was a few years older than me. Sara Surana. She wasn't interested in one of the Templars making advances and refused him. A few weeks later, she was accused of blood magic and made Tranquil. After that… she didn't have the presence of mind necessary to refuse him."

I made a disgusted sound. "They'd best hope I don't go back to that tower." I snarled.

She gave a choked laugh. "And what would you do? Kill them?" I didn't answer. I couldn't. We both knew that those words would be hollow. She nodded to herself. "I wasn't able to hide forever, and I had to refuse one of the Knight-Lieutenants. He was careful not to touch my face, but he… made his displeasure known." She grimaced and hugged herself. "It was a little better after one of the initiates had a crush on me. He often volunteered to be the one watching me, and it was difficult for the Knight-Lieutenant to get me alone. He still managed it, just not as often."

I was quiet for a second. "I think I'd kill _him_. That such a thing is allowed…" I made a fist, my knuckles white, and let it unclench. At the time, I didn't know why I was so calm, or why she was so calm when talking about what she'd been through. Looking back, I think it was because even with how horrible it was, how despicable and utterly vile it was, it helped me understand. The baggy robe, the downcast look. The backbone she hid beneath layers of timidity, so thick that they've become a part of her. And I think that she was simply happy to have someone listen to her.

I unbuckled my dagger and handed it to her. "Here. Next bastard that tries that, stick this in them."

She looked at it as if it might bite her and accepted it gingerly. "T-Thank- wait, this has a Chantry sigil on it! Where'd you get it?"

I grinned. "The Knight-Commander. After he was such an ass, the chance was just too good to pass up." I reached over and rummaged through my pack. "Let's see… I also have a few priceless Dalish artifacts, some books, and a bottle of what I think is brandy. Hopefully Greagoir had good taste."

She laughed. It was a beautiful sound.

* * *

Aegnor rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Not one of my proudest moments, I'll admit."

Varric scoffed. "No shit! What made you think insulting her was a good idea, anyway?"

Aegnor ducked his head, ashamed. "As I said, it's what I'd do with clanmates who weren't motivated. If you haven't noticed by now, the Dalish are a very, _very _proud people. Needle their pride enough, and they'll move heaven and earth to prove you wrong. That the tower might raise people differently didn't occur to me until after I'd screwed up."

"Fair enough. I lived with Kirkwall, and _I'm_ shocked at what happened to her."

"The Templar that did it is dead now, if you're curious."

"Good. That's one of them I won't mourn, at least." He said. _If that was his first impression of Templars… and I imagine his later experiences weren't helpful either. _"So how did that stick save Ellie's life, if you fucked up that badly?" He asked, feeling as if he'd managed to fit a couple of the puzzle pieces together.

Aegnor shrugged. "I still made her practice every night on the way to Ostagar. While my approach was way off, she still had no combat training whatsoever. If I had spared her that for her feelings, it would've been no better than covering her in gravy and throwing her to a pack of wolves." A sigh. "Speaking of which, I've taken far too long to get to Ostagar."

Varric nodded. "By all means."

"All right, then. It was a week later when we finally reached Ostagar…"

* * *

The sight that greeted us was at odds with itself.

On the one hand, Ostagar loomed in front of us, a shattered ruin built to withstand the ages and having failed, and yet keeping a terrible, foreboding majesty in spite of that. The fortress itself was split down the middle and spanned by a bridge with far too little support for my liking. It seemed like a place where a necromancer would conduct rituals in the dead of night, that the dead themselves might stand vigil over the bones of their master long after his death.

Yet it was a sunny day, and the sun glistened off the golden armor of the man approaching us, almost blinding me. Despite being armed and armored for war, his golden hair and jaunty, carefree smile made him seem like some ridiculous knight out of the most trite of children's stories.

I'll admit that when I heard the breath catch in Ellie's throat at the sight of him, I hated him a little bit.

I blinked in surprise when he reached us, seeing that he was even taller than Duncan. _Creators, humans are tall. _I was used to being taller than most of the people I was around. My eyes being level with someone's chest was disconcerting, to say the least.

The man smiled wider. "Ho there, Duncan!"

Duncan seemed as surprised as I was. "King Cailin! I wasn't expecting a-"

"A royal welcome?" I started. It was the first time I'd heard someone cut off Duncan when he was speaking. Then again, he _was _the King. _I've never seen someone so accustomed to power and wealth. If his armor is worth less than a hundred sovereigns, I'll eat my quiver. _He continued, oblivious. "I was starting to think you'd miss all the fun!"

Duncan inclined his head. "Not if I can help it, Your Majesty."

I admit that I tuned out for a bit and admired the architecture. What snippets I caught suggested that Cailin was fascinated by the Grey Wardens and wanted to be a storybook hero. I was simultaneously amused at Duncan's discomfort acting so informally around the man and annoyed at being so thoroughly looked down upon. I may not like the man, but Duncan deserved respect as something other than an affirmation of Cailin's heroic fantasy.

I heard silence for a moment and felt my ears twitch. Realizing Cailin was now towering over _me _instead of Duncan, I looked him in the eye and desperately tried to remember what had last been said.

Ellie saved me. "I-I a-am Ellerina A-Amell, your M-Majesty." The poor girl looked like she was about to faint.

I shifted slightly, putting myself between her and Cailin. "She was recruited from the Circle of Magi. I am Aegnor Mahariel, formerly of the Dalish Elves."

Cailin smiled, and I hated him a bit more. "Well met! I admit that my experience with mages has been a bit… off-putting, but none of them were as lovely and polite as you." My hand twitched towards my dagger. Ellie flushed and looked at her feet. Cailin turned to me. "And I admit I haven't even _met _a Dalish Elf before. I expect the stories Nan told me are far removed from the truth of things."

I cocked my head. I'd never heard those firsthand. "Oh? And what stories are those?"

Duncan shot me a reproachful look at my lack of tact, but Cailin didn't seem to mind. He shrugged. "Stories about how you steal children, drink blood, make sacrifices, frolic naked in the moonlight… as I said, I imagine it's mostly nonsense. You hear similar things in Chantry cautionary tales about Tevinter, except from what I've read, it's actually true."

I raised an eyebrow. "Tevinter magisters… frolicking naked in the moonlight."

He laughed easily. "Who knows?" After a moment, he winced visibly. "Oh! My apologies, I forgot that Tevinter can be a bit of a sore spot with your people. My advisors try to keep me from talking to elves, saying something about Royal image and the like. Never understood it."

I thawed slightly. That someone could so easily forget that racism existed was a new experience. Duncan's lack of racial bias came from long experience recruiting, I didn't doubt, but Cailin acted like the idea of elves being less than humans was one that hadn't occurred to him.

If only he wasn't a shameless flirt. "If you would like, I could tell some stories of the Dalish that _are _true." I could _feel _Duncan's disapproving glare_."_ Your Majesty." I added hastily.

He nodded eagerly. "I'll hold you to that. It'll have to wait, though. The darkspawn shouldn't be kept waiting."

Duncan cleared his throat. "Your uncle sends word that Redcliffe forces can be here in less than a week, Your Majesty. It may be prudent to avoid drawing out the darkspawn until we're at our full strength."

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on all the glory!" Cailin said, unconcerned. "We've already won three battles without him. All that's left is to trap the darkspawn in a fight they can't run from and destroy them."

I looked at him questioningly. "It can't be that easy. Blights have shattered entire nations before they were stopped."

He laughed. "I'm not even sure this is a true Blight! We've seen plenty of darkspawn in the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an archdemon." I glanced over at Duncan, and he nodded briefly. _Of the two, I'll believe the veteran Grey Warden whose job it is to know. _

So there was a Blight, but no Archdemon to be found. I hummed thoughtfully. "That might be its plan."

"Hm?" Cailin looked puzzled.

"As of this moment, he has the King of Fereldan, most of his army, and the Ferelden Grey Wardens with all of the recruits they've been able to gather in one place. If it's managed to conceal the bulk of the horde, which wouldn't be difficult given how dense this swamp is, you could be playing right into its hand."

Cailin shook his head firmly. "Our scouts are skilled enough to prevent that, and Duncan's men have assured me of how many darkspawn are nearby. We're more than ready for what they have."

I sighed inwardly, but nodded. "As you say, Your Majesty."

He smiled, pleased. "My apologies, but I have to cut this short before Loghain sends out a search party. I'll speak with you all at the war council tonight." With that, he turned and strode away.

I elbowed Ellie. "You can breathe, you know."

She blushed and started stammering before Duncan held up a hand to silence us. "Regardless of the King's plans, we should proceed with the Joining as soon as possible. We'll need every Grey Warden, and neither of you will possess the abilities that make us invaluable against the darkspawn until the Joining is complete."

I was surprised to hear Ellie speak up. "Is there time to get something to eat?" At the sound of food that wasn't trail rations, my stomach grumbled audibly. I smiled sheepishly.

Duncan chuckled. "I think that's a sentiment we can all share." He produced a pouch and tossed it to me. I caught it, surprised at the weight and how it clinked. "Take the time to outfit yourselves for battle afterwards. You'll need every advantage before long. When you're ready to begin, find a Grey Warden by the name of Alistair and bring him with you to my tent."

We both nodded. Satisfied, he strode off to the Grey Warden tents and began speaking urgently with a swarthy man possessing a beard even bushier than his. I turned to Ellie. "Want to see if army food is any good?"

She sighed. "So long as there's a place to sit down. I'm exhausted." I smiled, and together we walked towards the camp proper.

It was how I imagined a city would be. Hundreds of people, bustling around in a perpetual frenzy that was both productive and yet produced no visible results. Men and women in shining armor marched around at attention, while others lounged around without helmets relaxed as well as their metal shells would allow. Elves ran here and there, often bearing the livery of an unfamiliar lord over threadbare homespun. Occasionally, one of those lords and their retinue would materialize, forcing the crowd to part before them. Short as we were, we couldn't see over the crowd to get a look at them.

Even more stunning was the number of people who weren't soldiers. Cooks, laborers, couriers, blacksmiths, tanners, leatherworkers, whor- er, delightful young ladies, and dozens of other professions had set up shop.

Blessedly, there were a few food vendors who had set up shop and from which delicious smells were wafting. I bought the two of us large skewers of meat, vegetables, and some form of yellow fruit I had never seen before. Ellie asked for some money so we could cover more ground. I refused, not having the time to teach her how to haggle. I had been dealing with cutthroat human traders for years, and many of those I saw looked like they were cut from the same cloth.

After we had finished eating, which for Ellie was twice as much as food as I'd originally purchased, we moved onto the blacksmiths. Amazed that she could still walk after eating so much, I suggested she look at some of the lighter armor, and return when she'd found something that fit.

She refused at first. "I'm a Mage!" She said, as if I was an idiot. "Armor's terrible for spellcasting!"

I was unmoved. "So is getting stabbed." I said dryly. "You can forgo the gloves if you must, but keep the bracers." She huffed, but didn't argue further. I smiled as she walked off. _Nice to see she's learning to speak up. Hopefully, she'll learn to do it with other people._ I hesitated for a second to leave her alone before mentally shaking myself and looking at the elf sized armor.

There wasn't much, and it wasn't the highest quality. I frowned. _It looks like elves get the short end of the stick here, too. _Thankfully, I was tall enough that some of the smaller human armors fit me. The set I settled on had a breastplate made of overlapping leather plates, hard enough to knock on, with similar protection for the legs. The bracers and greaves were the only solid pieces.

I considered a helm, then discarded the idea. My mane of red hair was the best way Ellie had of finding me quickly if things went bad. Helmed, I was just another soldier. I also picked up a brace of knives and a dagger to replace the one I'd given Ellie.

After waiting for a few minutes, I found Ellie and expedited her decision making process significantly and took both sets to the quartermaster, ignoring her insistence that it was too heavy. After a brief misunderstanding over what kind of elf I was, namely the kind that doesn't accept shit from someone because he's an elf and knocks two sovereigns off the price tag for the insult, we found a curtained off area where we could get properly attired.

I have to say that I was quite striking. My Dalish clothes and weapons combined with the armor I wore and my bare head made me look like a warrior out of Halamshiral, before the Dales were conquered. I had strapped knives to various handy spots, perfect for throwing or stabbing in a pinch, which when combined with my sword, bow, and dagger, likely made me the most heavily armed elf in the army.

Ellie, however… "Ellie!" I said, exasperated. "There's no point in wearing your robe over your armor! You'll just trip on it!"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I'll wear it anyway, if you don't mind. It's good for spellcasting."

I raised an eyebrow. "You said it wasn't enchanted."

"I lied?"

"No."

"It's warm, though! I think there's a chill in the air."

"Then we'll get you a proper cloak."

She looked around nervously and, seeing that we were drawing attention with our argument, slumped. "Fine. Just… don't get any ideas." She ducked back into the curtained off area, and I looked menacingly at the onlookers until they left. Well, most of them. A wiry looking man and a blonde woman wearing chainmail stuck around, but after the man started flirting outrageously with her, she glared daggers at him and left.

Grinning, the man admired her rear aspect for several seconds before approaching me. "Name's Daveth, friend. When they told me Duncan brought a couple more recruits, I didn't expect one'd be a Dalish."

I grunted. "You're another recruit?"

"Yep. Got picked up in Denerim. I was worried about this Joining of theirs, but between you and the knight I feel a bit safer."

"The knight?"

He nodded. "Some bloke from Highever named Jory. Got on a high horse on account of me being a pickpocket before Duncan recruited me, so act all pious and whatnot if you want 'im to like ya."

"I'm Dalish." I said flatly.

"Yep, but can ya imagine the look on 'is face when an elf savage starts spouting the Chant of Light?" He said, chortling. "In any case, he's won a tourney in Redcliffe, so he can't be useless. Ugly as shit in winter though." I heard a rustle of cloth behind me, and Daveth whistled. "Now _her, _on the other hand…" _What? _I turned around.

Ellie had taken my advice and gotten rid of the robe. As has fallen on many deaf ears in my time, Mages and Chantry sisters are _not _naked under their robes, so under the light armor she wore some clean homespun. Without the robe, however, she made both look very flattering indeed. I felt my cheeks heat up. _She's… rather gifted, isn't she? No wonder she wore baggy robes around Templars. _

I caught myself staring at her as she approached, and averted my gaze. I noticed that Daveth was nowhere as circumspect, and I dug an elbow into his side. "Not. One. Word." He opened his mouth to protest, before remembering just how heavily armed I was. He walked off, shaking his head.

Ellie reached me, looking nervous. "Who was that?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Another Grey Warden recruit. Never mind him. How does it fit?"

She jogged in place for a couple steps, rotated her shoulders, and moved her arms through what I imagined was a spell component. "It's… not bad." She said grudgingly. "But I feel a little… exposed."

I imagined my ears were beet red. I cleared my throat. "Don't worry about it. People will take you more seriously than in that robe, in any case."

She sighed. "If you say so. Should we find this Alistair?"

"Mhm. We probably shouldn't keep Duncan waiting any longer. Hopefully Alistair's better behaved than Daveth."

"Who?"

"…Nothing."

* * *

Alistair, as it turned out, was playing messenger boy.

I watched with fascination as a Mage who looked surly to begin with scoffed with irritation. "I will not be harassed in this manner!"

Alistair, who for a startling second looked like Cailin if he'd swapped his plate for splintmail, smirked. "Yes. _I'm _harassing _you _by delivering a message. What's the saying? 'Don't zap the messenger'?"

The Mage was not impressed. "I am here by the _King's _orders!"

Alistair was relentless. "And I'm here by the Revered Mothers'. You know her, right? Old woman, likes to order around Mages and Templars? Doesn't like me much. Can't see why." He tsked.

The Mage gave a long-suffering sigh. "Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must. Get out of my way, fool!" The last statement was directed at me, and I resisted the urge to join Alistair in sassing him. I eyed him as he walked away, fingering a throwing knife.

"You know, one good thing about a Blight is how everyone just gets along! I see you're thinking about helping with that." I started and turned to face Alistair, my hand falling from the knife. He laughed. "And people call _me _a Mage hating bastard!" His brow furrowed. "Neither of you are Mages, right?"

I laughed at his expression. "One of us, at any rate." Ellie waved before blushing when Alistair noticed her.

He smacked his head dramatically. "_Right. _Staff. Good thing I'm a Warden. I'd have made a _terrible _Templar, let me tell you."

"You were a Templar?"

He shrugged. "I trained as one. Long story short, Duncan recruited me, the Grand Cleric threw a fit, and we almost got arrested. You know, boring stuff."

I felt myself stiffen at his casual admitting to being a Templar. _Though he doesn't seem disappointed about the lack of skirt. _"You are one strange human."

He laughed. "You're not the first to tell me that." He stopped and looked at the two of us speculatively, his face turning red briefly when he looked at Ellie below the neck. I could guess why. "Wait. You're Duncan's newest recruits, right?"

_Good guess. _"Yes. Aegnor and Ellie, at your service."

He nodded to himself several times. "Right. Those were the names." He looked at us with mock accusation. "This was so much easier when only one of you showed up at a time. Two is a little much. They don't teach us how to count in Templar training."

_Creators, does he ever turn it off? _"Yes, well, Duncan said to find you when we were ready… and we've found you."

"Oh, right. Let's get back to him." He looked a little crestfallen.

I looked at him questioningly. "What is it?"

"Duncan won't be happy with how the whole messenger boy thing worked out. Don't tell me how he'll know, he just will."

He looked so much like Tamlen had when he'd gotten in trouble with the Keeper that I had to keep from laughing. "Don't worry. The elf and the little Mage girl will protect you." I sassed, forcing myself to keep from going quiet. _I'm not forgetting Tamlen, _I told myself forcefully. _He'd have wanted me to keep making fun of people, not turn quiet and bitter. _

Ellie chimed in. "Yep. We all know who has the biggest stick around here!" She blushed immediately after saying it, and looked like she wanted the ground to split open and swallow her when I burst into startled laughter.

Alistair looked between us with horror. "Maker help me. Is this what I'm going to be puttiing up with?"

It took a while for me to stop laughing. "Actually, that's the first time I've heard her make a dirty joke." I looked at her approvingly. "It's good to hear."

* * *

Varric laughed. "Nice to see you find dirty jokes an important part of the story!"

"Oh? You think otherwise?"

"On the contrary! I almost wish Cassandra was around to hear that, just to see her expression!"

Aegnor smiled. "Alistair was an interesting person. He had a way of bringing someone out of their shell. Before encountering the mirror, I was an irreverent smartass who liked getting into trouble. Before Jowan used blood magic, Ellie liked making up conversations for people talking to amuse the other apprentices. We hadn't seen that side of each other in full force until Alistair drew it out of us."

"What about you and the Knight-Commander?"

"I was an angry, bitter smartass instead of a friendly smartass."

"Hm. Good point. So what happened next?"

Duncan was, indeed, not pleased with Alistair. To this day, I don't know how he found out so quickly. My current theory is a network of exceptionally talkative rats. "You did not have to sass the Mage, Alistair. Chantry relations are strained, and we don't need more ammunition against us." I winced inwardly. _My bad. _

Alistair, curiously, didn't have an ounce of snark for his Commander. "My apologies, Duncan." And he _did _seem genuinely contrite. _Just because Duncan doesn't approve? _

He addressed the rest of us. "Alistair here will assist you in the first part of your Joining. You will enter the Korcari Wilds and collect four vials of darkspawn blood, one for each of you." What. "Afterwards, you will locate an ancient Grey Warden fortress in the area. Inside are treaties, promising the Grey Wardens aid during a Blight. Only a Grey Warden can bypass the wards protecting them, so they should still be there. You are to retrieve them. "

He looked as us all severely. "You will need to work together if you are to be successful. I suggest you take the time to get to know one another. Alistair, I leave them to you." With that, he strode off.

The wiry man I'd met earlier smiled cheerfully. "I'm Daveth. I was recruited in Denerim, but I grew up 'round these parts." His smile broadened. "I think I've met all of you except you, miss. Care to introduce yourself?" He said, looking appreciatively at Ellie.

She ducked her head, uncomfortable with everyone looking at her expectantly. "E-Ellerina Amell, of the Circle of Magi."

I stepped between her and Daveth. "I'm Aegnor Mahariel, of the Sabrae clan."

The last recruit, a rather tall man I assumed was the knight Daveth mentioned, looked confused. "Clan?"

"Yes, clan." I looked at him to see if that rang any bells. It didn't. I groaned inwardly. "I'm Dalish."

His face lit up in recognition. "Ah! My apologies. I am Ser Jory of Highever. I was recruited after winning the Grand Melee in Redcliffe."

I eyed him warily. He was well armored, and carried the weight of it and the greatsword slung across his back as if he didn't feel it. _I think Daveth had the right of it. Ugly, and not who I'd have drinks with, so let's hope he can fight. _

Alistair clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. I winced at the sound of ringing steel. "Right, then. We all know each other, so let's get moving. We don't want to be in the wilds after nightfall, as you can imagine."

Jory turned pale at the thought. _Afraid of the dark? Not much of a knight. _Still, I wasn't fond of the idea either. "I agree. Let us be off." No one had any objections, so we made our way towards the gate. Curiously, everyone fell behind me.

Well almost everyone. _Fenedhis. _"Where's Ellie? Creators, it hasn't been a minute!"

She reappeared behind us, panting slightly. "Sorry, Aegnor. The kennelmaster ambushed me."

Kennelmaster? "What'd he want?"

She shrugged, embarrassed. "Just to keep an eye out for some things in the wilds. He has a sick hound, and he thinks a flower might help."

"A flow- never mind." I had enough experience with herblore to know how strange some cures can be. "Just don't wander off like that again. If you do, I'm tying you to Alistair."

Both of them protested the idea quite loudly. Daveth laughed in amusement, while Jory just looked uncomfortable in the extreme. Ignoring them, I made my way to the gate. _Not quite what I expected when I joined an order of legendary, world saving warriors. _I grinned cockily. _Well, at least I fit the bill._

* * *

I admit I'm not fully happy with this chapter. I'm torn between fleshing out the other recruits, or focusing more on the heroes of this story (Or rather, those that will survive past Ostagar) Still. Let me know what you think, and hopefully I'll have another chapter out in a few days!


	5. Chapter 5: Tainted Brilliance

Varric gave Aegnor a flat look. He tried to keep talking, only to stop and look at Varric peevishly. "What?"

"Four walking corpses and an abomination and you call yourself a legendary, world saving warrior?"

"In training." Aegnor said defensively. "We legendary, world saving warriors have to start somewhere."

Varric snorted. "Fine, fine. Just don't expect me to ignore bullshit. It takes one to know one."

* * *

The Korcari Wilds was easily the nastiest forest I'd ever been in.

Standing pools of stagnant water, muddy ground, gnarled, stunted trees, and the ever-present smell of rot made me wrinkle my nose in distaste. _No wonder the darkspawn are here. We should just let them have it. _

From the look of things, they were doing their best to claim it. Not a mile into the wilds we encountered an injured soldier, surrounded by the hallmarks of an ambush. He was covered in enough blood, much of it his own, that we thought him dead before he started moving. A dozen of his fellows, strewn about the landscape, hadn't been so lucky. "Help… me." He managed to say before he collapsed face first in the mud. He didn't stir.

I rushed forward, brow furrowed. _His injuries are severe. It looks like he was stabbed repeatedly, and I don't like the look of those bite marks. _"Ellie, do what you can to fix him up. I'll take it from there." Though pale, she nodded shakily and gestured with her arms. The sudden surge of power started knitting his flesh together almost immediately. My eyes widened with surprise when the rot and filth that had gotten into the soldiers injuries was forced out. _A useful side effect._ I gave her an appreciative look and pulled out a few of my poultices, along with my needle and gut.

After a few minutes of stitching and another healing spell, his eyes flickered open. "Who…"

"Easy." I held a waterskin to his mouth. "Just drink and tell us what happened." He drank greedily, forcing me to make him take it in small gulps to avoid choking.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finished and tried to get to his feet. I placed a finger on his forehead and eased him back down. "Darkspawn… my patrol got ambushed. I'm the only one left… there's more, far more than we expected."

I heard Jory curse behind me. "How many?"

"We thought their numbers were near our own… that is no longer the case. There are two, perhaps three darkspawn for every one of our soldiers."

_Fenedhis. _I got him to his feet slowly. "We're going into the wilds on Grey Warden business, and I don't dare send one of us back with you. Can you make it the rest of the way on your own?"

"I… I think so."

"Good. When you get there, make sure this news gets to the right people. After that, go to the healer's tent and sleep."

"I… yes, sir." Surprised at being referred to as such, I had no response as he began stumbling away.

Jory spoke up. "Did you hear that? An entire patrol of seasoned me, killed by darkspawn!"

"We'll be fine, so long as we're careful, Ser." Alistair said, attempting to mollify him.

It didn't work. "Those men were careful, and look what happened! I'm not a coward, but this is reckless."

I'd had enough. "Jory." He looked at me, surprised. "Be a good shem, and _shut up!_"

He bristled. "I have a wife with a child on the way! If we're walking to our deaths, then I think someone should speak up before we die for nothing, _elf!"_

Ellie started to back away slowly. _Am I that predictable? _I didn't think I was, because when I turned to face Jory I had no idea how I'd respond. I cocked my head and considered, the tension palpable. "You say that like it's an insult. Now I'd like you to think. Here we have a little slip of a girl, a thief, an elf, "I grinned toothily," and a knight. The knight is the one who is scared to fight darkspawn, which is surprising, considering that killing darkspawn is what we're all signed up for. What does that say, hm?"

He turned beet red, but his pride wouldn't let him back down. "And how many of the spawn can we kill? A dozen, a hundred? There are thousands in these woods!"

"Is Duncan stupid?"

"Wh-"

"No, he isn't. He's ruthlessly practical, and he fights the Blight with every resource at his disposal. If he thought that we would be wiped out, would he have sent us?"

"No, but-"

I nodded, satisfied. "That's what I thought. Now, we've wasted enough time. Let's get going, before the horde actually _does _find us." Not bothering to see if he followed, I turned on my heel and strode deeper in to the forest.

Ellie jogged to catch up to me. "Was that necessary? I mean, we _do _have to work with him."

I shrugged. "Honestly, I'd rather it was the two of us. We could skirmish fairly well without the hardbodies, and I don't even know if Daveth is any good in an actual fight." I pulled out my bow and strung it before nocking an arrow. "But if we're stuck with him, I'll be damned before I listen to his whining. I won't apologize for nipping it in the bud."

She glanced back to make sure he was out of earshot, then leaned in closer. "In that case, thank you." She shuddered. "I don't need him reminding me of what's in these woods. It's all I can do to make myself keep moving."

I nodded. "I haven't seen what your magic can do, but you need more practice before you can hold your own at close range. Stay behind me, and if I tell you to do something, do it."

She nodded. "Why are you looking out for me like this?" She asked. I started at the question. "I'm not much good in a fight, as you said. So why-"

"Because you deserve better." I said, with more heat than I'd intended. "I'm not going to sit back and watch you die because you tried to help your friend, and got kicked in the teeth for it. I know what that's like. So instead of beating up every human who calls me a knife-ear or railing at the Chantry until the Circle stops being a shit place to live, I'm going to keep you alive if it kills me."

She looked at me wonderingly. "You'd do that for me, just like that?"

I felt suddenly ashamed at my outburst. "It sounds foolish when I say it out loud doesn't it?" She giggled. I growled and socked her on the arm. "That's for making me look like an idiot."

She rubbed her arm. "Ow!" Still, she looked a little calmer than before. "And thank you."

"Mala suledin nadas."

"What?"

"Now you must endure." I shot her a sideways glance and smiled. "That does not mean you have to do so alone." I sighed. "Speaking of which, we should probably let the others catch up."

* * *

The first couple fights weren't difficult.

The darkspawn had spread out in groups of four to six throughout the wilds, I imagine as a screen against another scouting party. There were tall and short darkspawn, apparently called hurlocks and gunlocks respectively, mixed together haphazardly, with few carrying shields. As a consequence, it was stupidly easy for us to take them out before Jory or Alistair needed to do anything, between Daveth and me with our bows and Ellie with her magic. Surprisingly, Ellie was the most instrumental in this. She wisely targeted the darkspawn armed with bows first, displaying an impressive amount of control with her fire spells. It didn't take much power to sear out their eyes, after which they were easy prey.

I saw her picking flowers, afterwards. When I asked her how she had remained so calm after her first fight against darkspawn, she said she just imagined they were demons and reacted. She had turned a delicate shade of green at the smell of burnt darkspawn, however, and the shaking in her hands told me that she was doing her best to keep herself together. I can't say I was doing much better, save in how I hid it.

It became more difficult when we crossed the bridge. To this day, I remember that death trap.

The distinctive sound of a bear trap sounded behind me, and I heard Alistair's muffled cursing. I turned to move back and help him just as a ball of flame whizzed by my head. _What the- _It exploded outwards when it reached the middle of the bridge, blasting me off my feet and reducing the bridge itself to a smoking ruin.

After a moment of rolling around on the ground, I realized that I wasn't on fire and got to my feet. I turned pale. No less than a dozen of the monsters surrounded me, their bared fangs glistening in the light. I noticed with some disquiet that their teeth weren't canines, or molars. They were jagged needles, designed to tear into flesh and do as much damage as possible. They were weapons, just as much as the rusty blades they carried.

I dropped my bow and drew my blade as they closed in. Against all sense and logic, I charged.

"MA EMMA HAREL!" I bellowed as I reached the first one. I batted its blade aside with my armored forearm and decapitated it, wincing as the black blood spurted out of the stump. _Need to find the one that cast the spell._

I broke free of the semicircle before they could trap me and spotted one of them holding a staff and casting spells, though they weren't directed at me. _Is he targeting Ellie? Creators, I don't even know if she CAN defend against spells! _

I freed one of my knives and threw it. My aim was off, unfortunately, and it struck the creature in the thigh instead of the chest. It screamed in pain and lashed out at me with a shard of conjured stone. It clipped my shoulder and tore free my pauldron as I tried to dodge. Ignoring the burning in my shoulder, I gripped my blade in both hands and cleaved the monster from collarbone to groin.

I turned back around just as the rest of the spawn reached me. Dimly, I could hear fighting and shouting on the other side of the bridge. _No time to think about it. _I spun between two hurlocks, parrying their strikes and delivering deep cuts before a genlock struck at my knees and forced me back. I delivered a punishing downward punch, knocking out half of its teeth, and grunted when more of its brethren arrived and managed to land a blow under my arm. My armor held, but it didn't prevent the wind being knocked out of me. I danced, swinging my blade in wide arcs and trying to get some space to breathe.

Nine of them were still standing at that point. Five of them rushed me, while the other four ran around the side to try and flank me. Thankfully, I'd gotten a deep breath and managed to strike down two of them as I retreated. A lucky throwing knife caught a genlock trying to flank me in the neck, bringing it down. A hurlock, larger and faster than its fellows, swung a jagged axe at my head, which I parried. Seeing an opening, I drew my new dagger and stepped inside its next strike, jamming it into its sternum and letting it fall with a scream.

I thought I was doing rather well, until two genlocks managed to grab my legs and pull me to the ground.

I lost my blade in the scuffle, and my dagger was still lodged in a hurlock's chest. Cursing, I drew one of my knives and grabbed one of the genlocks by the arm. Shoving the other one off of me with a kick, I stabbed the first one through the hand, pinning it to the ground. A hard punch to the jaw convinced it to let go with its other hand, and I scrambled to my feet, breathing hard.

Four of them were left standing, not counting the one pinned to the ground, and I was unarmed. I cracked my knuckles and grinned bloodily. "Ma halam." I charged in swinging.

The two in front swung at me, one with an axe and the other with a sword. I managed to grab the axe as it came down, but the sword caught me in the ribs, cutting through my breastplate. I grunted as pain shot through me, though instead of slowing me down, it seemed to galvanize me into action. I saw red. I smashed down on the arm attached to the axe and felt bones break. Roaring, I buried my new weapon in the skull of the spawn that had wounded me.

Unperturbed by its broken arm, the other one swung wildly at me even as its fellows came around the sides. I seized its shattered forearm and squeezed, ignoring the shriek of pain. Stepping in, I smashed its face in with a punishing right hook.

I spun with the momentum and blocked the killing blow of another one, feeling the blade bite through my bracer. My vision turned that little more red, and I smashed its ribcage with my armored fist. It fell to the ground, unable to scream, before I used my boot to destroy its skull. The last one caught me in the back with a thrust that punctured deep enough to kill, had the placement been better. The red haze fully enveloped me. Ignoring the dagger in my back, I kicked out its knee, forcing it to fall forward. Spinning, I delivered a haymaker powerful enough to snap its neck, killing it instantly.

Eventually, the others made their way across the shattered bridge, out of breath and expecting another fight. The look on their faces when they saw me surrounded by a dozen dead darkspawn, many of them with their heads smashed in, was priceless. I probably looked like the Dread Wolf himself, covered in black blood mixed with red sheeting from my wounds, having killed my attackers with my bare hands.

I smiled, then promptly collapsed and started coughing up blood.

* * *

"You okay, Wildfire?" Varric asked. The elf's pallor had turned pale rather quickly, especially given how animated he'd been when talking about the fight.

He took a shuddering breath. "I'm fine, just... most people give into the Taint after a few days. Hawke's sister Bethany made it a week, which Stroud found exceptional."

Varric grunted. "You had to bring her up."

Aegnor winced. "Abelas, Varric. I wasn't thinking." He rubbed his face tiredly. "Still, she was a remarkable girl."

"Your point is?" Varric asked irritably.

Aegnor was silent for a moment. Then: "When I collapsed, I had been tainted for eleven days." _Holy shit_. "Every time I was injured, the pain was… beyond anything I'd experienced. It was like it had been dormant within me, and when like met like, it all rushed out at once. It fueled my battle fury as it does for the darkspawn, and in the moment I could ignore the pain. When I stopped moving…"

"Ouch."

Aegnor nodded. "A rather large understatement, but yes, _ouch."_

* * *

I opened my eyes to see Ellie crouching beside me and crying, her hands awash with magic. "Don't you die on me, Aegnor! You said you'd die for me, but I didn't think-" She saw that I was awake and gasped. "Aegnor!"

I smiled weakly. "Hi."

She slapped me. "Ow!"

She slapped me again. She tried for a third swing, but I managed to catch it, weak though I was. She glared at me. "You Void-kissed idiot! Don't you DAREscare me like that again!"

I groaned and sat up as well as I was able. "I'll keep that in mind. Also, try using more of your back muscles and get a good rotation."

"W-What?" She looked torn between blushing and looking offended.

"I hate to say it, but I'm good at finding trouble. You'll need to hit me harder to make sure I get the message." I said, forcing some cheer into my voice. _Creators, I feel like I'm dying. _

"You are a brave man. And I'm not referring to you fighting darkspawn." Alistair interjected, grinning. I turned and saw him and Jory standing out of smacking range. Jory didn't look pleased that I was alive. _The feeling's mutual, shem._

I looked around, confused. "Where's Daveth?"

It was Jory who answered. "Scouting, seeing as we felt the need to stop." He made it sound as if it was my fault.

Ellie beat me to the punch. "He wanted to leave you behind, I said I'd burn his eyes out of his sockets if we did."

I laughed, not caring how much it hurt. "Ma serannas, lethallan."

Alistair cocked his head. "What?"

"I think it means thank you." Ellie said.

"Did you just thank her for threatening to burn out my eyes?"

I was saved from having to answer by Daveth reappearing through the trees. His face lit up when he saw me. "HA! I knew you'd pull through! Makes me feel better to have someone who can take on a dozen spawn and doesn't have a stick up his ass.

"That's directed at me, I take it?" Jory said hotly.

"D'you see someone else who voted we leave our best fighter to die because he called him a coward?"

"Best fighter? Don't make me laugh."

"I didn't see you take a fireball to the face and keep on swinging."

"That's-"

"Be quiet, both of you!" Ellie snapped. "Are you all right?" She asked, directed at me.

"I'm in a bit of pain." I said, my voice faltering.

"How much?"

"My bones feel like they're on fire." I said, before staggering to my feet. She was too shocked to try and stop me. "But that means I'm not dead, so we keep moving." I turned to Daveth. "How much further to the tower? I imagine you took care of the blood while I was out it."

He nodded in affirmation. "Only a ten minute walk thataway. But first," He said, eying me carefully. "You alright, mate? You took a bit of a beating."

"I'm fine." I said, and immediately spoiled it by trying to take a step and pitching forward.

* * *

When I woke up next, I-

* * *

"You know, I'm impressed, I really am."

Aegnor groaned. "Somehow, I don't think you're impressed that I'm alive."

"Heh. Well, that too, but… for a living legend, you spent a _hell _of a lot of time flat on your ass." Varric said with a smirk, taking a sip of water.

"Hey, I was sixteen at the time. As I hear it, you nearly started a clan war at that age."

Varric choked, before devolving into a coughing fit. Aegnor made no move to help him, instead eying him with amusement. Varric managed to recover and shot him a dirty look. "Andraste's ass, Wildfire, who told you that?!"

"If it makes you feel better, no one betrayed you."

"So how-"

"You really, _really _don't want to know the answer to that."

"Try me."

"Blood magic."

"Shit."

"You sure? I could give you the gory deta-"

"Maker, no!"

"Suit yourself."

"… Well, if they knew about _that_, then they also probably owed me money, so that's one unpaid debt I can file under 'not getting paid'."

"Sorry about that. If it helps, it wasn't your sordid history that necessitated digging around in someone's head."

"No, no, it's fine. Chances are they were also a bastard. Merchant's Guild and all that."

"Cheers."

"Screw you, elf."

* * *

I woke up far groggier than I had last time, which was not helped by the sensation of my brain being jiggled around in my skull. The hard edge of something was digging into my belly. My hanging limbs and the up and down motion led me to believe that I was being carried over someone's shoulder. _Jory hates me and wears chainmail, so I guess the prize goes to Alistair. Damn splintmail._

I opened my eyes and saw that I was correct. Daveth noticed first. "He's awake! Ya gave us a good scare for a while. You okay up there?"

Between the lingering pain and my inexplicable sleepiness, I couldn't move my mouth properly. "M'fine. 'Ma Grey Wa'den."

Alistair chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."

Ellie, surprisingly, seemed to have taken my place at the head of the group. When she heard my voice, she ran back to me. "Sorry! You nearly bashed your head open on a rock last time you tried to start walking around, so I, er, may have put you to sleep."

I was as mad as I could be with my befuddled brain. "Ah sed m'fine! Lemmah head 'lone!" I struggled, though Alistair easily kept his grip with my weakened state.

She bit her lip. "Just… just calm down for a second, okay? We're on our way to get the treaties. We'll get you on your feet when a healer gets a look at you."

I was adamant. "Yer'a Mage. Fix ma. Too man' shems 'roun ta be safe. Don' trust'em."

Her eyes widened. "You never said anything about that before!"

"Din' need'ta. Had sword."

Before she could ask me to clarify, a female voice I did not recognize spoke up. "We are here!"

I looked questioningly at Ellie, as well as I could with my half-asleep muscles, and she grimaced. "The treaties weren't in the chest. A woman named Morrigan showed up and said her mother had them, and I figured being polite was the best way to go." I had several things to say to that, but considered none of them worth the chore of moving my mouth. I decided to doze on Alistair's shoulder. _Damn splintmail._

I honestly can't remember what was said. Whatever spell Ellie had used on me, it was damned effective, and my mind was loathe to cast off the dulling of the pain it offered. I caught glimpses of Ellie speaking to two women, one dark-haired and beautiful, the other grey-haired and ancient. Ellie was clearly uncomfortable, not the least because our three human companions were doing their best to sound like superstitious jackasses. Eventually, however, the older woman exited my view and returned with the treaties not long after, handing them to a visibly relieved Ellie.

When the old woman turned her attention to me, however, her voice cut through the spell like a hot knife through butter. "And who do you have there? One of the People, hmm?" Ellie opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off. "You are a treat, dear girl, but I would rather hear him speak for himself." I saw a wave of her hand, and the spell lifted away like fog burned away by the sun.

Of course, that made way for a different problem. _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH! _With a pained yelp, I flailed my way free of Alistair's shoulder, desperate to stop the pain yet having no idea how. I heard the old woman chuckling. "Oh, forgive me dear. It seems that spell was there for a reason." She snapped her fingers. "There, that should help."

Whatever she did, it didn't stop the pain completely. I still felt as if I was on fire. But it was… manageable, in a way, in a way I can't describe. The closest thing I can think of is the feeling of watching yourself being injured in combat, yet not feeling anything. You know that something's wrong, you can feel your body being injured, you know it's screaming at you, and yet you keep going.

Regardless, I was able to stop my flailing and stand with a grunt. With my eyes no longer pointed at the ground, I finally saw them.

The younger woman was as I had described her, yet also dressed in the most flagrantly sexual outfit I had seen in my young life.

* * *

"Don't Dalish women wear armor that ends about six inches above their navel?"

"Yep. Even so."

"Why do they do that, anyway?"

"I don't know when it started, but when it did, no one complained."

"Hm. Healthy attitude that. Forget I said anything."

* * *

It was patched together, and yet at the same time painstakingly decorated with feathers, polished stones, and other treasures. Based on that, I was forced to conclude that her top, with consisted of red fabric wrapped loosely around her torso, was intentionally configured to cover only a third of her breasts. Again, I wasn't about to start complaining.

The older woman was wearing a far more humble outfit, that of a shopkeeper or a farmer's wife, and yet managed to remain meticulously clean, something shared with her daughter's outfit. She cocked her head at me. "Well, I said I'd like you to speak for yourself. What is one of the People doing with four Grey Wardens, hm?" As she said that, I felt compelled to answer, far more than I should have. _An old woman, powerful in magic, with something off about her, living in the wilds…_

With surprising alacrity, I managed to bow deeply. "Andaran atish'an, Asha'belannar. I am Aegnor Mahariel, of the Sabrae clan."

"Wait, you know this witch?!" Jory interjected, sounding angry. "She is an apostate! Why did you not inform the Templars?"

I fixed him with a stern look. "She is Asha'belannar. If I inform your Templars of where she is, it will be because I do not wish their bodies to be found. And, seeing as Alistair needs to keep you alive, I advise you speak of her with more respect."

She laughed, a grating sound. "And what made you come to that conclusion? If I were simply and old woman, would I merit such manners, I wonder?"

I straightened. "Every child of the People is taught the signs. Spotting you among humans is akin to spotting a dragon among deer."

"Ha! You're right, in more ways than one. And you didn't answer my question."

I nodded. "I'm a Grey Warden, like them." I jerked my head towards the rest of the group. Ellie shrank back from her gaze. The other three waffled between nervous and wary.

She gave me a piercing look, a look of surprise coming across her features for the first time. "Ah, but you are not. You are tainted already, and for far longer than I thought possible. Curious."

Alistair furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? He's only been exposed to the taint for a few hours."

I sighed. "No, Alistair, she's right. My Keeper tried to cure it, but I've been tainted for…" I counted in my head. "Eleven days now."

His eyes bugged out. "WHAT? That's… that's…"

Asha'belannar regained her humor at the sight of his shock. "Impossible? No. Simply unprecedented. Impossible is the word of fools, more often than not." She turned to her daughter. "It does, however, lend some urgency to your errand. Morrigan will lead you back."

Morrigan bristled. "What? Are they children, that they cannot retrace their steps?"

"Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are _your _guests, after all." She said mockingly.

Morrigan sighed deeply. "Very well. Follow me, if you please." Glad to have control of my body once again, despite the pain starting to creep past Asha'belannar's magic, I strode off after Morrigan. Ellie, thankful that she no longer had to deal with the superstitious comments of the group, hurried after me.

* * *

I sat down heavily at the prescribed meeting place, rubbing my temples. _I never thought I could be so eager for anything. _Despite Duncan's warnings of how dangerous the Joining was, if it cured me of this agony, I would go through with it without question. Had it involved jumping off of a cliff, I would have done so. I would've been free of the pain one way or another.

I'd managed to get some things done after we returned the blood and treaties to Duncan. Too tired to do so myself, I had dipped into Duncan's purse to have a blacksmith clean and repair my arms and armor. Thankfully, Daveth had been kind enough to retrieve my weapons after the ambush. Still, I was more than a little uneasy that my only weapon at the moment was the wooden stick I'd used to train Ellie.

Mindful of how last minute preparations would drive prices up, I had also taken the time to restock my pack fully, as well as purchase some healing and stamina potions for emergencies. I had furnished Ellie with the same, as well as a lyrium potion that, while expensive, I felt better for her having it.

I let my head thud against the wall, the minor discomfort barely noticeable. _Nothing left, but to watch the sunset. _The sun had begun to kiss the horizon. We were set to meet at sundown. _A good view, at least. _Warmed by the sun and utterly exhausted, I managed to doze fitfully.

Ellie was the first to arrive. Thankfully, she hadn't gotten any darkspawn blood on her armor, so she still wore it. She still looked uncomfortable with how it clung to her curves, but she no long walked with her head down, which I approved of. Seeing me, she walked over to the wall I had claimed and sank down next to me.

She nudged me with her elbow. "You saved my life, you know."

I looked up, surprised and more than a little sluggish. "What? When?"

She smiled. "At the bridge, while you were playing hero. They attacked us on the other side, too. I remembered what you'd said and stuck close to Alistair, but when they first appeared…" She shuddered. "One of them managed to get to me and swing a sword at my head. If I'd been the same little girl as I was a week ago, I'd be dead right now."

I smiled back. "See? I told you it'd be worth it."

She snorted. "You still have a shit way of showing you care."

"I know." I moved to sock her on the arm before wincing and hissing through my teeth.

Her eyes widened. "Are you alright?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

"Is there anything I can do?"

I thought for a moment, then forced myself to my feet, using the stick as leverage. She hurried up along with me, hands out in that curious stance people adopt when they're afraid someone will fall. I grunted, but managed to stay upright. "There is one thing."

"What? Watch you crack your head open again?"

I chuckled weakly. "Tel'abelas. I could have sworn I could walk." I grew more somber. "No, I'd like to practice one last time before the Joining."

"Why?"

I fixed her with a sad look. "There's a chance that you'll survive the Joining and I won't. If that's the case, I'd feel better if I could save your life again with this. There _is _a battle to fight, after all. And as a Grey Warden, they'll need you."

She shook her head before I'd finished speaking. "No, no, and no. You're NOT allowed to die!" She struck at me with her staff. Unable to dodge, I blocked with my stick and riposted weakly. "You're going to live." She parried and swung at my legs, forcing me to stumble back clumsily. "You're going to be a big damn hero in this battle." I leaned forward and tried to get past her guard, only to have her strike me squarely on the wrist. I was far, far too slow to fight as I should. "And we're going to _keep _doing this until I can beat your scrawny ass when you're not crippled!" She demonstrated her point rather well by rapping me on the collarbone, right where I'd hit her the first time we'd done this.

I chuckled. "You win." Ignoring the pain in my body and the misgivings rattling around in my head, we traded blows until the sun had set. I'm sure we looked like a drunkard and a child whacking away at each other with sticks, given my physical state and her lack of training, but to me it seemed a grand duel in the orange light of the fading sun, in a ruined fortress, with no one around to witness our bravery.

* * *

Sadly, Jory and Daveth had to arrive as well. And Jory _still _refused to shut up. "The more I hear of this Joining, the less I like it!"

Thankfully, Daveth had reached the end of his rope. "Are you blubbering again?"

Jory ignored him. "Why so many damned tests? Have I not earned my place?"

I scoffed. "By my count, there's been two. Go into the Wilds and grab some things, then come back and nut up for the Joining. I'd like to think that becoming a knight is more difficult than that, though from the sound of it, I'm not so sure."

He was furious. "You DARE?!"

I shrugged, unconcerned. "I just killed four darkspawn with my bare hands, and twice that while armed. After that, I've no issue saying how much of a coward you are."

It was harder to remain impassive when his greatsword was pointed at me. "Say that again." He likely thought his voice was menacing. After hearing him blubber so much, it was laughable. His arm, however, was utterly steady, despite the weight of the sword he was holding. _Well, it looks like he won that tournament with something other than dumb luck._

I knew that any threat I made was going to be a bluff. If he'd been just another meathead with a sword, I probably could've made it work. As it was, he outweighed me more than two to one and was a trained, armored fighter, whereas I was armed only with a stick, and was practically falling over from pain.

Even so, I met his gaze steadily and held the stick at my side loosely, seemingly unconcerned. "You. Are. A. Coward. And I'll let the Void take me before I sit around listening to your whining."

I never did find out how serious he was. Daveth, quite bravely for a thief from Denerim, got between us and pushed Jory back. "Hey, easy now. It's the taint talking, 'es not thinking right. Try killing him later, when he's better, eh?" For a long moment, Jory glared at me, looking ready to push Daveth aside and damn the consequences.

Thankfully, he let his sword drop. "This isn't over." He spat.

I snorted. "Ar tu na'lin emma mi, len'alas lath'din." My tone gave no indication that what I'd said was friendly.

Duncan and Alistair chose that moment to walk in. "Grey Wardens take on a duty and a burden not for glory, but for the greater good." Duncan said without preamble. He looked even grimmer than usual, and was holding a white chalice large enough to be a small bowl. "The first of us realized that no normal warriors could push back the darkspawn. They needed an advantage, a strength against the horde that none before had dared to use."

"And so it was that the first Grey Wardens drank darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint." My face, already pale with pain, turned white as a sheet. _What?! _

Predictably, Jory spoke up. "We have to drink the blood of those… those _creatures_?" He said fearfully.

"Yes. This is the source of our power, and our victory." Duncan's voice was quiet, yet utterly adamant. "We speak few words before the Joining, but they have been spoken since the first. Alistair, if you would."

He nodded and took a breath. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you." He recited solemnly.

Duncan inclined his head respectfully, and held out the goblet. "Daveth, step forward." I was, again, impressed by Daveth's bravery. Maybe it was because he'd have been dead if not for the Wardens, or maybe he was sick of the ruthless practicality that comes with thievery and wanted to be noble for a change. Whatever the reason, he reverently accepted the goblet and took a sip before Duncan retrieved it from his now trembling hands.

We all watched him expectantly, as tense as a dalish longbow when strung.

Almost immediately, he began coughing and choking, his hands grabbing at his throat. We watched in horror, too stunned to react, as he bent over at the waist, desperately attempting to breathe and vomit the unholy concoction he had just imbibed. Eventually, he collapsed to the ground, still moving weakly, before finally going still.

"I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan turned towards Jory. "Step forward, Jory."

The knight, sword already in hand, now held it before him in a two handed grip. Where before his grip had been confident in his rage, they now shook with fear. "B-But I have a wife. A child! Had I known-"

"There is no turning back." I felt my hackles raise at the sound of Duncan's voice. It was the sound of a wolf ready to finally bare his teeth.

"NO! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!" Duncan stared at him for a long moment, waiting for him to step forward. Disappointment flickered across his face at what he saw. He drew his dagger with a faint hiss and set the chalice on the ground before approaching Jory.

Ellie summoned her nimbus of energy out of panic, backing away from the two armed men. I caught her before she started running. "Stop them!" She cried, making me wince from how close she was to my sensitive ears.

"Jory's made his choice." I said, not taking my eyes off the pair.

She whirled at me. "Just because you don't like him doesn't mean you should let him die!" She hissed. She got no further. Jory, face tight with concentration, swung at Duncan, a powerful blow intended to either kill or break down his guard.

Jory was a trained fighter. I was better than he was by a fair bit, both in talent and in wild instinct. Duncan, however, put us both to shame. He darted to the side, quick as a snake, and let the greatsword strike the stone floor with a screech. Stepping inside Jory's guard, he struck with his dagger, aiming for the face. Jory flinched and tried to defend with his arm. It was a good tactic. I would have likely done the same in his situation.

What neither of us realized was that the utterly decisive strike by Duncan was nothing more than a feint. Taking advantage of Jory blinding himself, he went low and stabbed under the ribcage, shearing through chainmail like cloth and piercing Jory's heart. "I am sorry." The words were at odds with the scene before us. Jory's lifeblood spurted over the ground as Duncan pulled his dagger free and let his body slump to the ground, a growing pool of red staining the stone around him.

The entire fight had lasted about two seconds.

Duncan sheathed his dagger and retrieved the chalice from where he had placed it. "Step forward, Ellie."

She shook her head. "N-No. Aegnor goes first. He's half dead already." She looked at him fearfully, likely wondering if he would kill her as well.

Duncan was inscrutable for a moment, then nodded. "Very well." He offered the chalice to me. "Step forward, Aegnor."

"What are you doing?" I hissed at Ellie.

"Keeping you from smashing your head on the ground." Feeling Duncan's insistent gaze, I sighed and accepted the chalice.

I almost stopped when the smell hit me. Far more potent than normal darkspawn blood, it threatened to make me vomit from the smell alone. _How did Daveth do this without hesitating? _I held my breath and took a small sip.

The taste was vile. Imagine how darkspawn gore smells, and translate that to taste. Then amplify it a hundred times over, mix it with the burning sensation of wood alcohol on a cut, ferment it in the sun for a summer in a sealed container, and stir in the most potent purgative you can find.

I choked it down, and barely got the chalice back to Duncan before my body erupted with pain, easily overwhelming what I had already been feeling. For the second time in two weeks, I was treated to a dizzying miasma of images flashing before my eyes, though unlike before, these were utterly horrifying. A sea of tainted creatures scurrying through underground passages to reach the surface, burning, slaughtering, and despoiling whatever they came across.

It was then that I realized the true threat of the darkspawn. They did not need to eat, or sleep, or drink. The taint sustained them. No matter how many we killed, more would come, always more, until there was nothing left for them to destroy. Tens of thousands were nearby, but in the brief flash of clarity I could detect _every _darkspawn, feel them like a disease beneath the skin of Thedas. There were thousands, _millions, _all of which were now focused towards one goal: to corrupt.

The Archdemon stood at the center of it, a beacon of not just the taint, but of something just as old, and just as powerful. Looking at it was akin to looking at the sun. I could not see its form, only the blackness of the taint and the blinding brilliance of what it once was. The taint sang in victory. The light howled in agony.

* * *

Thanks to BlunderBore for his/her reviews!

Needless to say, I never liked Jory. There's thousands of people around you in the same boat as he was, risking their lives to fight the darkspawn, and he refuses to just nut up. Daveth was just a bro who took the whole thing, barring the creepy witches, rather well.

And Aegnor getting the shit kicked out of him every other chapter is intentional. As humorous as the main character can be deadpanning while covered from head to toes in gore, I wanted a character that could fight worth a damn to begin with and still have the threats be credible. There has to be a good middle ground between getting savaged by the most basic of enemies and waltzing through all opposition without so much as a bead of sweat marring the picture. Anyway, tell me what you think, and I'll get the next part up hopefully some time next week! Next up, the Battle of Ostagar!


	6. Chapter 6: The Warden

Aegnor grimaced, his eyes far away. "It's just occurred to me how many times I've had visions after being knocked unconscious."

"Color me curious. I'm guessing it's happened more than twice."

"You have no idea." Aegnor leaned back and made a steeple of his fingers. "I survived the Joining, obviously, as did Ellie. She was more than a little shaken by Daveth and Jory's death, not to mention the nightmares, and with my newfound lucidity I wasn't too much better at first."

Varric stared at him, bemused. "You say that like it _wasn't _pant-shittingly terrifying. I've been into the Fade you tall people keep going on about, and it wasn't pleasant. I don't think darkspawn add to the experience.

"Indeed not." Aegnor said wryly. "The important bit, however, is that Duncan informed me that the king wished me to be present at the war council later, after I had recovered."

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Why would he want you there? No offense, but you weren't exactly the most important person."

Aegnor smiled. "None taken. My best guess is that Daveth spread the word that I'd killed a dozen darkspawn singlehandedly, and it got blown out of proportion by the time it got to Cailin. Couple that with his Grey Warden fixation, and you've got a Dalish Elf at a human war council."

"Was Ellie invited?" Varric asked.

Aegnor shook his head. "No, thankfully. Ellie's presence wouldn't have been good for keeping Cailin on topic. He was the kind of man who was easily distracted by a nice pair of…"

Varric laughed. "Eyes?"

"...Yes, let's go with that."

* * *

I retrieved my arms and armor from the blacksmith and lost a little of my uneasiness. As much as I tried to act civil around them (well, other than Jory), I'd felt more than a little discomfort at being surrounded by several thousand armed humans while I had nothing but the clothes I was wearing. I did my best to wash my hair and face and, satisfied that I was at least presentable, I hurried towards the war council. I even ran towards the end, marveling at the lack of pain.

Fortunately, despite my haste, I was still late. Cailin was arguing with another man when I arrived, clad in burnished silverite to contrast Cailin's own gilded plate, and from what I could tell, it seemed like it had been going for quite some time. Had I arrived on time, I likely would've been treated to more of the same.

As I came within earshot, Cailin cut off the other man sharply. "Loghain, my decision is final! I will be joining the Grey Wardens in this assault." _Er, what? _

The other man, Loghain, was less than pleased. "You risk too much, Cailin. The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines!"

"You and my father risked just as much, and more!" Cailin shot back with some heat.

Loghain waved dismissively. "Those were _Orlesians_, not darkspawn. Ogres, foul magic, and the Taint were not threats I faced at River Dane!" I could feel the hate when he mentioned Orlesians. I'd never even met one, so how they could elicit more hatred than darkspawn baffled me.

Cailin was unmoved. "If I'm asking our soldiers to charge at those threats, then I can do no less! The Grey Wardens will be enough to keep me safe."

Loghain sneered. "You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?" I wasn't certain if he was implying treachery or was concerned for Cailin's safety. _A bit difficult to tell past all of the venom. _I took my place next to Duncan across the war table from them. He was impassive as ever, but I was getting better at reading his moods. He was just as uncomfortable as I was watching these two bicker.

Cailin scoffed. "If the Grey Wardens aren't enough, then perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces after all!"

"We don't need the help of those bastards to defend this country, and I'll be damned before I see them marching across the countryside again!" Loghain spat. He didn't raise his voice, nor did slam his fist on the table to make a point. Even so, the raw hatred in his voice frightened me. _This man is dangerous. _

Cailin, again, didn't seem bothered by it. _More the fool he._ "If that's the case, then we'll have to work with what we have. Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"

Duncan nodded hesitantly. "They are, your Majesty." He said, hiding his discomfort well. _I suppose being the object of hero-worship isn't enviable. _Duncan was many things, all of them useful to the Grey Wardens, but a shining knight wasn't one of them.

Cailin smiled, before addressing me. "And I recognize you as the recruit from earlier. I understand congratulations are in order?"

I decided to mirror Duncan in this situation. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"You should be proud! The Grey Wardens need skilled warriors in this dire time, and as I hear it, you took on twenty darkspawn in the Wilds by yourself!"

I winced. "That story was exaggerated, Your Majesty. It was a dozen." Loghain shot me an annoyed look. _Please the King or avoid the ire of Loghain… Creators, why am I here? _

"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailin! We must attend to _reality!" Healthy attitude, that._

Cailin huffed. "Fine! Speak your strategy."

Loghain gave him a wary look, making sure that Cailin was focused before leaning over the table to look at the map spread out on it. "You and the Grey Wardens will lure the darkspawn into the canyon and fix them in place. Your best and most loyal warriors will take place on the left and right flanks with the Ash Warriors and mercenaries in the center. The flanks will hold while the center buckles, causing the darkspawn to overextend.

Cailin nodded, keeping up to my surprise. "The Grey Wardens and I will be in the center, to keep the morale there from breaking. While this is happening, your handpicked archers be stationed in the fortress on either side of the canyon, thinning their back ranks to prevent them overwhelming us."

Loghain's face twisted when Cailin mentioned him being in the thick of fighting, but he recovered smoothly. "When the darkspawn are well and truly fixed, you will alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover-"

"To flank the darkspawn, I remember." Cailin interrupted.

Loghain looked torn between sharing my surprise at Cailin's attentiveness and annoyance at being interrupted. "I will have the bulk of our heavy infantry and archers. After a few volleys, there should be enough gaps in their lines to push them fully into the canyon, which the Circle mages and archers can turn into a killing ground."

Cailin nodded, satisfied. "The tower is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Then who shall light this beacon?"

"I have a few men stationed there." Loghain said. "It's not the most dangerous task, but it _is _vital."

"Then we should send our best!" Cailin replied, turning to look at Duncan. _Oh joy. _"Send Alistair and the new Grey Wardens to make sure it is done."

I shook my head, ignoring Duncan's glare. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, _no. _I'm a warrior, not a torchbearer. I won't shame my people by keeping out of harm's way while there's a Blight!" It may seem strange that such was the line I drew. Remember, however, that I was still young, and quite proud of my abilities. I hadn't trained for thirteen years to become a glorified errand boy, and I hadn't gone through the pain of the Taint and the Joining to watch while someone else lit a fire.

Before tempers ran high at my insubordination, Duncan spoke up. "While Aegnor here is speaking above his station," He gave me a pointed look that I ignored, "I fear I must agree with him. I need as many skilled warriors on the battlefield as can be found, and he has proven himself. Might I suggest our other recruit for the task? As a Mage, she can light the beacon quickly even should complications arise."

I opened my mouth to argue before it struck me. _Ellie shouldn't be anywhere NEAR a battle yet. If Duncan's offering to keep her safe, I'd be a fool to refuse. _

Cailin looked somewhat displeased, but appeared to be mollified. An ancient woman wearing an embroidered robe, however, stepped forward, looking livid. "We can't allow a Mage to go unwatched! She should be kept with the other Mages near the Templars!"

I gave her a dirty look. "Over my dead body!" _How can someone believe that the Templars are a good thing? _Either she hadn't visited the Circle, or she simply didn't care past her fear of the unknown.

She sniffed. "What is a wild elf doing here?" She asked tightly, ignoring me and addressing Cailin.

I glowered at her. _Bitch_. "The term is 'Dalish', _shemlas,_ and if one of your Templars gets within ten yards of Ellie, he's a dead man."

I grinned at the shocked look she gave me. Everyone present seemed taken aback, but hers was easily the most priceless. After a moment, it turned venomous. "How DARE you!"

I snorted. "Easily. I don't recognize you, so for all I know you're someone's grandmother come to spread her ignorance!"

Cailin and Loghain were looking back and forth between us, as if watching a duel. Cailin's had a bemused expression on her face, whereas Loghain's was calculating. Probably wondering if he could toss her off a tower and blame me for it.

She drew herself up to her full height, which only highlighted how small she looked next to the other humans. "_I _am Grand Cleric Elemena, and interfering with a Templar's sacred duties is a hanging offense!"

Duncan shot us both a disparaging look. "We have other concerns than your petty bickering. Aegnor, I expect you to remain civil, and Grand Cleric, I ask that you refrain from assuming authority over one of my Wardens." He spoke quietly, but the menace was clear in his voice.

It occurred to me that I was treading on thin ice, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Ignoring Duncan, I shrugged at her in the most infuriatingly uncaring way I could manage. "I don't recognize your Chantry, Templars, or Maker. Find someone else to put up with your bullshit."

"Knight Captain!" She snapped. While not nearly loud enough to be threatening, it did summon a fully armed Templar.

He clanked up next to her. "What is it, Your Grace."

She pointed at me accusingly. "This savage has made threats against the Templar Order, admitted to heresy, and insulted my person! Arrest him."

I was stunned for a moment. Duncan attempted to get between me and the Templar as he approached. "Be that as it may, he is still a Grey Warden! He is not under your authority!" His statement was ruined somewhat by me choosing that moment to start laughing. Hysterically.

I don't know how long I laughed. When I had stopped, the Knight-Captain was attempting to muscle his way past Duncan. Easier said than done. He might as well have been trying to uproot a stump by blowing on it. Cailin was appealing to the Grand Cleric, and Loghain was conferring with one of his officers. Nice to see I hadn't stopped troop deployments.

I wiped the tears from my eyes. "My apologies, it's just… I'm Dalish, and a Grey Warden, neither of which is beholden to you. And it occurs to me that this is the first time that someone hasn't actually given a damn about what you have to say, so that leaves you with… well, the robe looks quite nice." Still chortling, I strode away from the table. The Templar tried to stop me, and was surprisingly quick for man in full plate. I was still fast enough to dance to the side like I had no care in the world.

Shooting him one last jaunty grin, I broke into an easy jog, humming a tune. I still needed to find Ellie before the battle, and unlike the Grand Cleric, my priorities were in order.

* * *

Varric gestured for Aegnor to stop. He looked up, confused. "What is it?"

"Let me get this straight, Wildfire. You're a Grey Warden for an hour, and you piss off the most powerful Chantry figure in Ferelden?"

Aegnor gave a bark of laughter. "It's not so strange when you think about it. I'd decided that I would look after Ellie, so when some old woman with a mouth like a cat's ass tells me that her childhood abusers will be watching her, I was… less than pleased with the decision."

"You do realize that you being 'less than pleased' caused political ripples from here to the Anderfels?"

"As I've often said, no one complained. Well, no one important anyway."

"The Divine is unimportant." Varric said flatly.

"When you don't recognize the Chantry, yes."

"Wait, you still don't?" Aegnor shook his head. "So what's the Inquisition to you, then?"

Aegnor smiled. "Well, it's been disavowed _by_ the Chantry, so I'm obviously in good company." He held up a hand at Varric's next question. "It becomes important later on, but at the time it wasn't. I don't even know if that Templar ended up on the front line or not. All I got from Duncan was disapproval was told to join the other Grey Wardens with the king."

"And Ellie?"

"At the tower with Alistair. Alistair wasn't happy, but it was the best I could have hoped for under the circumstances."

* * *

After that rather uncomfortable meeting with Duncan, Ellie pulled me aside. Duncan wasn't pleased, but he allowed us a few minutes before going to our posts. I couldn't blame him for his displeasure, given my shouting match in front of the most powerful people in Ferelden, including refusing one and _having _said shouting match with another.

* * *

"Wait, that's it? He was _displeased?"_

"I imagine he was furious, it was just hard to tell with that man. I probably would've been shipped off to the coldest backwater Warden outpost they could find for the next few years to appease the Grand Cleric."

"…You really didn't think that one through, did you?"

"Dalish pride is a fickle thing. Mine was better managed than most, but it still came out as a gut reaction to… certain topics."

"Ellie?"

"Exactly. Well, that and being called a wild elf."

"So did you ever get a handle on it?"

"HA! If anything, I've lost a bit of restraint. I can just get away with it now."

* * *

I gave Ellie a questioning look. "What is it?"

She huffed. "You're the first person to stand up to the Templars for me, and you're going into a battle that you might _die _in. What could I possibly want to talk to you for?!"

I winced. "Point taken." I leaned against a nearby wall and sat down, gesturing for her to do the same. "So what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know… something, _anything." _She said, fear plain in her voice. "Something that keeps me from imagining every horrible thing that could happen!"

"Hey." I said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "It's going to be fine, alright? I didn't survive the past two weeks just to die here, and you have the safest post there is."

"But-"

"No buts!" I squeezed her for emphasis, eliciting a gasp as the breath left her lungs. I've never been one for gentle hugs.

She sniffed and nodded. "O-Okay."

I smiled reassuringly. "Do you want to talk, or do you want me to talk?"

She hesitated, then took a shuddering breath to calm herself. "I'd like you to talk. I… I don't think I'm up to it."

I nodded easily. "Is there something in particular you'd like to hear about, or should I come up with something?"

She thought for a moment. "There is something, actually." I looked at her, curious. "When you were half asleep, you said that you didn't trust the shemlen without your sword. What did you mean by that?"

I stiffened reflexively. _I did say that, didn't I? _Memories of a happier time floated to the surface of my thoughts, as bright and painful as shards of shattered glass.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, noticing my distress. "Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry!"

I took a deep breath and held up a hand, forestalling future apologies. "It's okay, it's okay!" I said, gathering my thoughts. "You couldn't have known. It's just… quite painful to think about."

"If you don't want to-"

"It's fine." I said, interrupting her. "If I'm going into battle, I should tell someone. The only people who know this are hundreds of miles to the north." I leaned back, gathering my thoughts, my eyes far away.

After a time, I began speaking. "I never knew my true father. It's not something I'm ashamed of, it was simply the way things were. My mother became enamored with another elf at an Arlathvhen-that is, a gathering of the Dalish clans-and conceived me. The father I knew and loved, my Papae, she met soon after."

"He was, to me, everything one of the Dalish should be. Fast, strong, a good hunter, a great swordsman, and he was always kind to me. I was his blood, and he was mine as far as we were concerned. That's all that mattered." I smiled, reminiscing.

The feeling of Ellie's curiosity brought me back to the present. "My apologies, Ellie. So, when I was a young boy of four, I became interested in being big and strong like Papae. I was fascinated with his sword and bow, and the way he moved and the things he could do… to this day, he is the finest warrior I've ever seen.

"When he caught me swinging his sword around, a masterwork forged from ironbark that had been in his family since the Dales, he didn't punish me. Instead, he took it from me to keep me from hurting myself and laughed. 'Would you like to learn how to use a sword?' he asked." I laughed. "And of course, there was only one answer to that."

Ellie blinked. "You've been training since you were four?" She asked, surprised.

I nodded. "The Vir Tanadhal, the Way of Three Trees, is the philosophy we are taught, passed down from when the goddess Andruil walked among us. The Vir Assan, the Way of the Arrow, teaches us to be swift, silent, and unwavering. The Vir Bor'Assan, the Way of the Bow, teaches us to bend and yield, never to break, and in doing so become stronger than the hardest steel. The Vir Adahlen, the Way of the Forest, teaches us that many are stronger than one. What we take from the forest, the forest will eventually reclaim, and all shall prosper."

She smiled faintly. "That sounds beautiful."

"It is. All Dalish know those three, though there are others that are less common. The one my Papae taught me was The Vir Mi'sulahn, the Way of the Singing Blade. It is rare among our people, as swords cannot kill deer, only shemlen, and bows accomplish both. But I wanted to be just like Papae, and nothing else would do."

Ellie laughed softly. "I can imagine. You must have been a terror when you were younger."

"Not at all. Papae was gentle, but if I threw a tantrum he would refuse to teach me. I wanted to swing a sword around, so I learned very quickly to stop screaming and listen."

"I can think of some apprentices that could have used that." She said, sighing.

"I can imagine. I drove our Hahren-er, elder-crazy. I didn't want to listen to his stories, I wanted to follow Papae on his hunt!" I chuckled, remembering when Marethari had dragged me back and forced me to apologize. "And so I learned. As you've seen, our way of fighting is not that of the humans. Ours is flexible, elegant, and deadly."

"Which you can clearly see from the crushed skulls you left in your wake in the Wilds."

"Heh. THAT was my own addition, but that's a different story altogether. Suffice to say, I'm much stronger than most elves, so I can get away with it. But the principle remains the same. Sway and turn, dodge and deflect. When there is one, wait for an opening. When there are many, make an opening." I grinned wolfishly. "The Exalted March paid special attention to the followers of Vir Mi'sulahn when they conquered the Dales. Such was their skill and rage that even their greatest warriors could not stand against them. The greatest of us were said to have been mages, channeling strength of the flesh and mind both."

"So he taught me." My face fell. "Then the humans came."

"What happened?"

I dabbed at my eyes, trying to hide the tears forming there. "He was out hunting with a clanmate when they came across a human patrol. I don't know whose, some lord. They were accused of poaching, and when they tried to flee, our clanmate was shot. Papae went into a rage. When we found them, only Papae was alive, riddled with arrows, surrounded by the corpses of eight soldiers."

I blinked, the tears flowing freely now. "I was fourteen at the time. I would have sworn vengeance, had my father not reminded me of the price that comes when invoking our gods. 'Do not invoke the All-Father when someone you care about is dead' he told me. 'Our gods listen but once in exchange for our reverence. Save your vow when someone you care about might yet be saved'."

"In his final moments, he looked at me and smiled, blood coming from the corner of his mouth. 'Do not take vengeance upon the humans', he said. 'Seek happiness, not slaughter. Only when they act beyond our forgiveness shall you remind them why they fear us'. Those were the last words he spoke to me."

I paused, then gave a choked laugh. "It sounded better when he said it." I felt Ellie's arm snake around my neck and pull me into a hug. I returned it. "Thank you."

She blushed furiously. "What did he mean when he said 'our gods listen but once'?" She asked, trying to hide her embarrassment.

I chuckled, the knot in my throat loosening. "Our gods are said to be gone, tricked by the Dread Wolf and sealed away from the world. Yet there are small groups of Dalish who follow teachings said to have been recovered from the ruins of Arlathan, myself among them. We believe that the Dread Wolf sealed away the Forgotten Ones utterly, but could not bring himself to hold our gods fully from this world. And so, when he sealed them away, he left a small link between them and the Elvhen. In exchange for us following the old ways, they may grant a single boon to those who call upon them in a time of need."

"Have you invoked one?"

I nodded, then winced inwardly. _Jowan probably isn't the safest topic. _"I called on Andruil when I couldn't afford to miss." I said, trying to be vague. "Against all odds, my blade struck true."

She snorted. "Stop trying to sound so mysterious, or I'll light your hair on fire."

"The perfect crime. No one would see the difference."

"Exactly!"

"What you don't know is that Dalish are fireproof."

"They are not!"

"It's true! According to your Chantry, I should've burst into flames for what I said to the Grand Cleric. Hag." Ellie stifled a giggle.

We continued bantering back and forth, the sadness and tension gradually leaving both of us. All too soon, we heard the officers bellowing for soldiers to form up in the canyon.

I sighed. "I have to go."

She grimaced. "So do I."

"Just saying goodbye seems insincere, doesn't it?"

She nodded. "Just… just promise me something."

I smiled. "Name it."

"Don't die?"

Still smiling, I socked her arm. "Don't worry. I don't plan on leaving just yet." I drew my blade and held it up in the torchlight, the ironbark shimmering. "Besides, Papae will protect me. I didn't follow his teachings for thirteen years to let his family blade fall on a human battlefield."

She relaxed slightly. "You promise?"

I nodded. "I promise."

* * *

The worst part was the quiet.

I bounced on the tip of my toes and held my blade at my side, utterly ready for a fight. I had expected it to be soon after I joined the other Grey Wardens. The silence, however, dragged on. Where I was eager, relishing how responsive my body felt and secure in the knowledge that Ellie was safe, other soldiers shifted out of nervousness. Coughs, sneezes, and metal screeching caused by fidgeting in full armor could be heard throughout the ranks. The other Grey Wardens stood tall and quiet. If they were nervous, they did not show it, their faces seemingly carved of granite.

We had been stationed in the center, the weakest part of our line, where the Bannorn militia had been placed. Haphazard in their equipment and barely trained, I didn't know at the time how they were supposed to hold. It was only later that I realized the price of Cailin's heroic battle. Even in the event of victory, the Grey Wardens would have to hold while the militia crumbled around us.

Mothers and Sisters of the Chantry walked up and down the ranks, waving incense lanterns and chanting prayers. A few of them with the voice for it sang. Beliefs aside, the sound calmed me. The Brothers and Sisters avoided the Grey Wardens, likely because of my stunt earlier.

In retaliation, I decided to sing for us. "_Melava inan enansal, ir su araval tu elvaral." _A few of the militia behind me gave me curious looks. Ignoring them, I continued. "_U na emma abelas, in elga sa vir mana."_

The moon set, leaving us in the darkness of early morning that even my elvish eyes had trouble piercing. Braziers, torches, and lanterns were lit in greater numbers, attempting to dispel the growing blackness. "_In tu setheneran din emma na."_

"_Lath sulevin," _I whirled, surprised, to see an elf among the Grey Wardens picking up the tune. After a second of searching in the dark, I saw that he had vallaslin. A faint smile flickered across his face as we recognized each other. Together, we rose our voices in harmony.

"_Lath araval ena," _More elves, this time from the militia, started singing with us. _"arla vent u vir mahvir," _After a moment, a growing hum rose from others, humans and elves alike, as they followed along, not knowing the words. _"Melana 'nehn, enansal ir sa lethalin."_

As the night went on, we continued to sing, eventually rivaling the Chantry in our fervor. I smiled. We were few, but the elves of Ostagar would not shame our ancestors.

* * *

"You know, I've never heard stories about the singing elves at Ostagar." Varric said, curious.

Aegnor shook his head sadly. "The Bards-well, most Bards-didn't want to glorify the elves at Ostagar. It was the betrayal of a great and noble king by his most trusted general, the last stand of him and his finest warriors while others fled. That we elves, bandits, thieves, and lazy servants, fought just as fiercely as the shemlen king wouldn't sit well with most people."

"And you didn't mind that shemlen joined you in singing?"

"At the time, no. Surrounding us were farmers, farriers, stable boys… not soldiers. They were people scared of the darkspawn who had answered the call to defend their country from those monsters instead of fleeing. I couldn't fault them for trying to raise their spirits and the spirits of their neighbors by singing."

"You sure that you're Dalish? I haven't heard you say 'flat ears' once."

Aegnor sat back with an amused look on his face. "You what the funny thing is? I never saw the difference. They just look like children that need to be taught, who aren't old enough for their vallaslin."

"You know, that sounds just as condescending."

"Oh?" Aegnor raised an eyebrow. "The trick to teaching children is not treating them like children. Teach them like they're intelligent people. Give them something to push back against, to strive for, something worthwhile in the midst of their day to day distractions. Whether eight or eighty, it works."

"Hm. Fair enough, just don't let them hear you say that."

"I won't. And the elves that stood at Ostagar, Dalish or not, were no children. They had remembered the old ways in the best way possible: when our homes are threatened, we fight."

* * *

They arrived with the storm. It had been on the horizon, unseen in the night, and they had followed it. The rain started, thunder and lightning lit up the landscape and blinded up, only to leave us in darkness. I felt my hackles raise. The darkspawn had planned for this. They lived in the dark, fought in the dark, died in the dark. In this battle, their greatest weapon was our lack of sight. When two warriors are swinging blindly at each other, as darkspawn seemed to favor, it was a fifty-fifty chance of who would survive. If we were outnumbered as badly as the scout had said, the battle could very easily go poorly.

The brief flashes of light also served to terrify us. Monstrous figures, some taller than any human, were illuminated however briefly, glistening in the rain with jagged teeth bared in a lipless grin. Bestial eyes, inhuman, merciless, and full of cunning shone at us, legion in their malice. I heard soldiers shuffling behind me and inching away, stopped only by their fellows, scared that if one man broke and fled, others would, until they stood alone by their king.

With a roll of thunder, the darkspawn charged, masking the sound of their pounding feet with the roar of the storm.

Cailin's voice cut through the gloom. "ARCHERS!" His golden armor glittering in the torchlight, he raised his greatsword. It was in that moment that I finally understood the ridiculous stories shemlen favored. Shining knights, noble kings, all of it. He was that dream come to life. Arrows shot through the air, answering his call, and slammed into the onrushing horde. Again and again the black shafts found their mark, killing hundreds, the horde too thick for them to miss. A deep roar of pain and an earthshaking thud signaled the death of an ogre.

Still, they came. Without Loghain's archery contingent, the arrow storm was too thin to slow them for long. Cailin raised his blade a second time. "ASH WARRIORS!" The arrows began flying into the back ranks of the horde as lightly armed warriors darted from our lines, battle hardened and fierce, loyal Mabari warhounds at their side. They dug into the horde with axes, spears, fangs, and claws, enraging the darkspawn before dancing back out of reach, throwing javelins. This continued for several cycles, each time drawing the darkspawn further into the canyon.

Finally, with the darkspawn strung out and within our grasp, they broke for the last time, falling behind our lines. Cailin swung his greatsword in a massive arc and bellowed, "FOR FERELDEN!" Taking up the cry, I grinned and charged, as did everyone, from Cailin's bodyguard in their polished armor to the Bannorn farmers armed with secondhand spears. We smashed into the strung out darkspawn, our tight knit formation utterly crushing any opposition.

I spun between three darkspawn, lashing out with blade and fist and whooping as they fell. An arrow glanced off of the leather helm Ellie had insisted I wear. Inwardly thanking her, I picked out one of the larger Hurlocks, its axe already darkened with the blood of our soldiers, and attacked. It managed to block my first strike and deliver a powerful overhand swing. Swiveling to the side, I guided it into the ground with my blade and let it stick there before flicking my blade across its neck. Unprotected by its rusted helm or armor, I slit its throat easily.

By the time the bulk of the horde had engaged our lines, I had dispatched a nearly a score in a similar manner, moving too fast for most of the spawn to react and reveling in their inability to rush me in a large group. _Fighting in an army has its perks. _With my flanks secure, I could focus solely on the fight in front of me.

From what I could see of my fellow Wardens, they were having similar success. A burly man wielding an axe as impressive as his beard was tearing through them, uncaring of whether they tried to defend or not. His enchanted axe cut through weapons, shields, and armor alike, and only rarely did he require more than one blow.

The Dalish elf I had seen had pulled out a pair of daggers and was dancing through their lines, hamstringing, throat-slitting, aiming only for vital points. As I watched, he was bowled over by a genlock with a shield. Without hesitating, he planted his dagger in its throat and kicked it off of him, coming to his feet like he had planned it.

Even Cailin himself was faring well. A magnificent fool he may have been, but fools who like tales of knights do not neglect their combat training. His natural reach combined with his massive greatsword allowed him to keep most of them at a distance until he could find a gap in their defense and exploit it. _Good. We don't need to babysit him._

My distraction nearly cost me my life. Cursing, I darted out of reach as a maul the size of a child nearly collided with my skull. Such a weapon takes time to swing, which I did not provide, stepping inside its next strike and shattering its skull. I spun and swung at a genlock readying a killing blow against a militiaman, spilling its guts and causing it to topple over with a shriek.

I shifted behind the front line for a second, instinctively trying to catch my breath and finding that I didn't need to. After a display such as that, I should have been feeling significant fatigue. _Did the Joining do this? _I _had _been feeling even better than usual since then, aftertaste notwithstanding. _It doesn't matter, I guess. _Grinning, I took a few deep breaths to be safe and charged back into the fray.

It quickly became apparent that I wasn't needed in the center. The Grey Warden's and Cailin's bodyguard were holding well. The rest of the militia, however, was crumbling. I darted into a group of darkspawn that had pushed through their lines, killing two in my initial rush. One of them was raining blows on one poor woman's shield. I smashed my fist against the side of its helm, throwing it back and stunning it. I shook my fingers, wincing at the feeling of punching solid metal, before impaling the offending darkspawn and kicking his body back to the horde. The woman looked at me in wonder, and I admit I felt a little flutter in my chest at being such a big damn hero. After half a minute of dedicated slaughter, I darted back out to let the militia plug the hole and went to find other gaps in our lines.

I lost my helm soon afterwards, again saving my life. As it was, my head wound bled profusely, matting my hair against my head along with the rain. Annoyed at how little I could see, I grabbed a torch from a fallen soldier and held it aloft as I ran.

Over the next quarter hour, I became a rallying cry among the militia. Where a hurlock alpha forced his way through, I appeared, red haired and terrible, to slay it with a shining blade and flaming brand. An emissary began causing havoc, only to fall with one of my throwing knives in its chest. A company captain fell, sending a hundred soldiers into disarray, only to regroup and hold when I charged in to buy them time.

They joined me, chanting, "WARDEN! WARDEN!" and crashed once more into the darkspawn lines. As far as I know, that's when I became The Warden. I bellowed a battle cry as an answer to their fervor, lost in the din of battle, and let the red fury of combat take me, colored by the blood dripping down my forehead.

* * *

The battle was going badly.

I stood back from the front line, gasping for air, and watched as it started to crumble. Even Cailin's bodyguard in the center and handpicked troops holding the flanks were flagging, the fatigue of the past hour taking its toll. Instead of having lulls like a normal engagement, the darkspawn threw themselves at us in an unending wave, giving most of the army little time to rest.

Our archers had also stopped firing. I knew not why, simply assuming that the darkspawn had somehow gotten troops inside Ostagar to engage them. Climbing the cliff face was suicidal, but given the darkspawn's sense of preservation, losing half of their climbers was likely a non-issue. As a result, ogres had begun to make their way to our lines and cause havoc, breaking through all but our sturdiest formations.

Even the other Grey Wardens were beginning to show similar signs of fatigue. I knew for a fact that at least two were dead, and many of them bore wounds that could be life threatening. I wasn't in great shape either. Cuts, bruises, scrapes, and fractures blended together in a cacophony of hurt. My left fist had gone numb from so many powerful blows, and I suspected I had broken at least one bone. My shoulders and forearms ached from swinging and cutting through armor, flesh, and bone so many times. Blood both red and black coated me from head to foot, even thicker than it had on the scout we had rescued in the wilds. Even my newfound stamina had begun to reach its limit.

Drawing my bow, I began to fire at the Ogres, the powerful ironbark limbs propelling arrows far deeper than shemlen bows could manage. Eventually, I managed to drop one, even as two others reached our lines. Only three arrows remained in my quiver. I looked desperately to the Tower of Ishal, looming above Ostagar. _Fenedhis Lasa! Ellie, what's taking you so long? We need support!_

For a long moment, the tower remained still, uncaring of our plight. Then, incredibly, stone burst outwards from the top floor in a huge flash of light, and the signal flare to life. I looked closer. _Is… is that an ogre?! _A figure, horned and far larger than any human, had been pushed through the wall. As I watched, it fell, silhouetted against the nights sky, before disappearing from sight among the ruins.

I unstrung my bow and drew my blade, eagerly awaiting Loghain's charge. _First will be a hail of arrows. _I danced on the tips of my toes, waiting. Nothing came. _Any second now. _

Only the cries of dying soldiers and the roar of an ogre greeted me.

With growing horror, I rushed forward into the thick of battle, desperately trying to close a breach in our lines. _No! _I gasped as I felt a blade slide along my ribs, leaving a stinging cut. I backhanded the offending darkspawn hard enough to snap its neck, wincing as my numb fist now flared with pain. _Nonono. _Roaring in fury, I cleaved a second one in twain before dodging another one and promptly beheading it. My impact jarred my arms, leaving me unable to properly parry a fourth blow. I grabbed the haft with my left hand as it descended, heedless of the pain, and forced my blade through a chink in its armor. _Nononononononono._

Around me, the militia crumbled. No help came.

In that moment, I knew that we had lost. No help was coming. Looking around, I saw only death and destruction. A greybeard farmer armed with an axe cut down a genlock, only for another to sink a dagger in his back and its teeth into his neck. A knight with a mace and shield made a valiant stand among his fellows, striking left and right with frightening force, before an ogre grabbed him and crushed him in its grip. Two militia, both darkhaired and one bearded, fought side by side with greatswords, displaying more skill than any normal soldier should have. I rushed in to aid them, driving back the spawn with a series of sweeping blows. When I looked back, the bearded one was yelling at the other. Reluctantly, he nodded, and the two of them started running in the other direction.

_Fenedhis! _When I looked around, many were joining them, only to be cut down by darkspawn arrows. _The king. _I started running for the center. If he survived, he could raise another army. _He can't be dead. He was surrounded by the Grey Wardens! _

Thankfully, he wasn't, though he was drenched in as much blood as a dead man. Less than a third of the Grey Wardens were left standing behind him, all fighting like men possessed, with Duncan himself fighting like a legend come to life. Why I had risked angering him, I don't know.

I put a hand on Cailin's shoulder and pulled him back forcefully, bellowing for his bodyguard to fill the hole. He whirled on me, enraged. "What in the Maker's name are you doing?!"

"Your Majesty, we need to get you out of here!" I bellowed, barely hearing myself over the noise. "This battle is lost!"

He shook his head angrily. "I will _not _turn and run while other men die for me!" He yelled hotly.

I opened my mouth to respond, before yelped in surprise as Duncan was suddenly tossed to the side, thrown by an ogre. Cailin rushed forward, swinging wildly, only to be grabbed. His armor cracked, but held, as it tried to crush him. He tried to stab it before the ogre shook him violently, sending his greatsword flying through the air. Shocked, I could only watch as it grabbed him in both hands, roaring in satisfaction as he succeeded in crushing him. King Cailin, the shining knight from children's tales, was dead.

Yelling, I charged at it and drove my blade as deep as I could into its thigh, twisting the wound as I pulled it out. Faster than blinking, it swiped at me, sending me flying some fifteen feet before crashing to the ground, dazed. Dimly, I could see Duncan rush it and, in a display of acrobatics a man thirty years his junior would find exceptional, leap at its chest, sinking both his sword and dagger deep into its heart. It roared in pain and tried to dislodge him. Somehow dodging its raking claws, he propelled himself off of his sword and pulled his dagger free, burying it in the beast's throat. Its roars turned into pained gurgles, and it toppled over, bringing Duncan with it.

By the time I was on my feet, a hurlock alpha had finished him off.

I was in state of shock, heedless of the wholesale slaughter around me. Cailin, Duncan, and the Grey Wardens had all died in the space of less than an hour. I was half dead myself; the ogre had likely broken something, and when the adrenaline faded. Between that and my other injuries, I would be in too much pain to run. I could either run now, or stand and fight. There was no running if I hesitated.

I ran.


	7. Chapter 7: Gods and Witches

Aegnor grimaced at the memory. "Ironic, isn't it? The battle that earned me my moniker is the only battle I've ever run from. The only battle I ever _lost._" He said, his voice full of bitterness.

Varric shrugged good-naturedly. "It was also a battle you weren't in charge of. From what I hear, that hasn't been the case since."

Aegnor nodded reluctantly. "It just… _galls _me. I think that was the second biggest reason I hated Loghain. He forced me to run from battle."

"The biggest?"

Aegnor's face became tight. "He'd just condemned Ellie to die without shedding a tear, along with countless others." He spat. "I may hate the Templars, but at least one of them will look you in the eye and put a sword through your neck if you're a mage. Loghain let the darkspawn do his dirty work, and I don't even want to _think _about what happened to the women at Ostagar that day."

Varric grunted sympathetically. "Good to see your priorities are straight."

Aegnor snorted. "Someone's should, and that usually falls to me."

Varric snickered, before giving Aegnor a curious look. "What I don't understand is how you got away. You fled after Hawke did, and you were in far worse shape."

"That should be no great secret. It's where I went from there that things get interesting."

* * *

I made it to the Tower of Ishal at a dead sprint. Aside from a couple of detours and a few short, sharp fights, I'd kept up that pace since the canyon. My eyes widened at the ajar door and the darkspawn corpses surrounding it. _The darkspawn can't have made it here in these numbers already._ Cursing the time I'd spent freeing the Mabari in the kennels, I ran as fast as I dared in the narrow passageways of the tower, slowing down at corners by slamming into the wall and pushing off of it.

The sheer number of corpses, both darkspawn and human, shocked me. Most of the humans appeared to have been crushed, either against the masonry or simply crushed outright, while the darkspawn appeared to have been killed by magic if the scorch marks were any indication. A few of the ones who lay face up had had their eyes burned out. _Ellie. _She was here, at least.

I prayed to Mythal, that she be alive.

When I reached the top, I thought my prayer had gone unanswered. Smashed masonry and wooden furniture was strewn across the room, as well as a frightening amount of blood both black and red. I started when I realized that the wall opposite me had been destroyed utterly, a gaping hole large enough to allow a dragon instead allowing the storm to drench the room. Already, the blood was running, flowing across the floor until it seemed that twenty men, not two, had died.

_Fenedhis lasa!_ My first frantic sweep revealed two corpses, one wearing circle robes and the other wearing heavy armor, though I couldn't place the material; there was too much blood. _Please, please don't be dead! _In the back of my mind, the part of me not panicking was piecing together what must have happened, telling me that she was here. I ignored the part that told me she might be dead.

My paranoia saved me. The faint whistle, barely audible over the storm, alerted me to the shield that very nearly collided with my head. I cursed, ducking away and bringing my blade up defensively. My eyes widened in recognition. "Alistair? What in the Creators name possessed you to attack me?"

His shoulders sagged in relief. "It's you! I thought you were a darkspawn."

I scowled at him. "I find that hard to believe!"

"Have you looked at yourself?" He asked, smirking.

A quick glance downwards revealed that my armor, particularly in the dark, was easily torn and bloodstained enough to pass for darkspawn. _Damn humans and their small eyes._ "Alright, fine." I conceded tightly. "You're forgiven. Now where's Ellie?"

His face fell. "She's breathing, but she passed out. But why-"

"Take me to her." I interjected, leaving no room for argument in my tone.

Confused, he led me into a small alcove created by the wall and some fallen rubble. "There she is." He said, pointing unnecessarily as I rushed over. _She's breathing, some blood coming from her nose. _"Now why are you here? If you're here as reinforcements for the darkspawn that made it past you, we took care of those." I ignored him. _Superficial injuries and pallor suggest some degree of blood loss, but not enough to pass out. Creators, what happened? _

I started when Alistair grabbed my shoulder. "Aegnor, _what is going on_? Why are you here?!" I resisted the urge to hit him and start yelling with some difficulty. My patience, already fraying after the slaughter of an entire army, was not equipped to deal with someone who'd not only let Ellie fall unconscious, but was utterly unaware of what was happening when he had a giant window to let him see how the battle was progressing. In a word, badly.

I waited until I trusted myself to speak. "I got the order to retreat." I lied through gritted teeth. _Don't have time to play the game of 'how can they be dead?'. _"Things went poorly. I'm here to get you and Ellie."

His eyes went wide and he gripped me tighter. "What happened? Is Duncan alive? Is the King?"

I glowered at him. "Alistair, every second we waste here is a second that the darkspawn are catching up. I have questions too, but both of us will have to wait. So shut up, grab Ellie, and follow me."

"But-"

I slapped his hand away and jabbed him in the chest. "Understand that the only reason I haven't grabbed Ellie and left right now is because I don't think you deserve to be eaten by darkspawn, and we have a better chance of surviving in a group. But the more you talk, the more you bellyache, the more I'm tempted to take my chances! Now MOVE!" He stood there stunned for a few seconds, before finally slinging Ellie over his shoulder and making his way over to me. _Thank the Creators. _I was about three seconds away from hitting him, and I didn't need another broken bone in my hand. Suppressing a wince, I opened the door to the staircase.

I closed it again.

"What's wrong?" Alistair asked tersely, likely in response to my yelling at him. Oh well. I'd apologize for that when we got out of here alive.

Which was looking to be harder than it sounded. "Darkspawn caught up with me." I said, sounding a lot calmer than I felt.

"How many?"

"I couldn't get a proper count. At least twenty, with more pouring in behind them." I replied, mentally kicking myself. _Idiot! Should've run faster… or just left without Alistair! _I knew it was unfair to him. I knew I couldn't have arrived any sooner. I didn't care. The world becomes a lot simpler when things are your fault.

His shoulders slumped. "We can't fight through that many!"

"I know."

"Ellie's out cold! It's just the two of us!"

"I know."

"Can you even fight? You look like you've been to the Void and back!"

"I KNOW!" I shouted, then cursed as the darkspawn tried to break down the door. I thought frantically. "Alistair, there was another mage. Dead, I think."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, so?"

"So grab his staff. I need something to bar the door shut." I still wasn't sure why I wasn't panicking. _Could be shock. _I _had_ taken some bad hits. It also could've been the realization that I was going to die, and I wanted to go down fighting. _Abelas, Mamae. _I accepted the staff from Alistair and wedged it into where the drop bar would have gone. I suspected it had been broken when the darkspawn first attacked.

We stepped back and listened to the darkspawn on the other side. "Now what? We sit here and play cards until they break through?" Alistair asked dryly. _Terrific. He's found his sense of humor. _He dropped Ellie off back at the alcove and drew his sword, standing by me and the door.

I took the opportunity to clean my sword and bind some of my injuries. "Now I play healer and, hopefully, Ellie will wake up before that staff breaks." It didn't look likely, judging from the looks of things. We had a few minutes, at best. "So now that we have some time, what made the hole in the wall?"

"Hey, I asked you first!"

"And I need to take my mind off of a fractured leg. That means you're up."

He huffed. "Alright, fair enough. Long story short, we fought an Ogre, it killed two of us, and Ellie blasted it through the wall before it could kill me."

My mind finally made the connection between the flash of light and the ogre falling from the tower. "Wait, that was Ellie?"

"You _knew _that there was an Ogre here?"

I made a dismissive gesture. "I saw it falling from the tower right before the beacon was lit." I grit my teeth as I tied off a bandage. "How did she manage it?"

Alistair shrugged, trying to look unconcerned as the staff began to crack. "I don't know. I woke up after it happened."

"Woke up?"

"You ever been hit by an Ogre?"

I cocked my head. "Yes, actually, but I see your point." My ears twitched. Something bigger was coming.

Alistair whipped his head around. "You've been hit by an ogre? When?!" The look on his face was priceless.

"About ten minutes ago. And you might want to get your shield up." I grunted, forcing myself back to my feet with my hand over my eyes. "We have a few seconds at best."

"Wha-" A flash of light interrupted him as the staff shattered and the door flew open, revealing a hurlock, easily seven feet tall and carrying a massive axe of red steel, far too ornate to have been made by the darkspawn. Alistair, blinded, stumbled back with a curse just in time to avoid its first swing. The stone floor splintered and cracked under the impact.

My hand twitched towards one of my knife sheathes, now empty. _Guess I'll have to get close to him. _

Joy.

I yelled, far more hoarsely than I'd like, and charged in. My first thrust glanced off of its jagged plate, and I barely avoided its return swing. Alistair, showing more stones than I'd have thought, reset his stance and smashed into it with his shield. By that point, more darkspawn were starting to pour in around the big one, forcing the two of us to retreat. One of them became overzealous and lunged out alone, a mistake that I took full advantage of. Where it fell, two took its place.

The hurlock general kept back, only swinging to discourage us from pressing in and stemming the tide of darkspawn at the chokepoint. More fell, dead, swiftly replaced by their fellows, forcing us back until we were fighting side by side at the entrance of the alcove.

I tried and failed to enter the red haze that had consumed me on the battlefield. I was too tired, too drained, too scared to act on instinct alone. Adrenaline rose up in me, but it granted a cold clarity. I was fully aware of the darkspawn trying to kill me, granting me an almost clairvoyant quality where I could predict their movements, but my actions were slowed by my awareness of my own body, how it stung and burned and ached. I could see each hit before it happened, feel each hit send stabbing pain through me, and be unable to stop. If I stopped, Ellie died.

In desperation, I fell back on one of the simplest, most effective techniques I knew. I ducked one swing, rose up, and struck back, drawing power from my legs even as my arms burned with the effort. _One. _I ducked to the other side, lower, and swung again, faster. _Two. _Even lower, my legs burning as I rose to deliver another full body swing. _Three. _

The next time, they caught on, and an axe clipped me on my way up. The simplicity of the move allowed me to continue through the pain, to ignore the hits I would take, so long as I kept up the rhythm. _Four. _A dagger entered my gut. _Five. _Even faster. _Six. _Pain. _Seven. _Pain. My rapid assault succeeded in buying Alistair and I some time. Darkspawn fell with every swing, too bunched up and lacking the self-preservation to defend. _I can do this._ In that moment, I felt invincible.

On the eighth swing, my leg, the one damaged by the ogre, gave out underneath me, and I caught a blow to the chest. I stumbled back, swinging desperately to buy room. Arrows, first one, then many more flew in from the seething mass, piercing my battered armor with impunity. Alistair, his blade dark with their blood, caught three on his shield before he missed and fell, a pair of black shafts sticking out of his chest.

_No_! It finally hit me how desperate we were, tearing me from my false calm. _No no no! _I roared, my voice barely whisper, and attacked weakly. My legs gave out and I crumpled before I was finished, saving me from the return blow.

I lay there, bleeding out, and prayed to Mythal that we be saved. _I know I've already prayed to you. I know I have no right. I just ask that Ellie still be okay. Don't let her get eaten by darkspawn! _Already, however, I was seeing things, feeling things. I felt my soul enter the Veil with a great whoosh, yellow light blinding my eyes and dry heat, utterly out of place in the damp cold, scorching my face.

* * *

"Hold on! You're telling me that that's what dying is like?"

"No, actually."

"Then wha-"

"Listen a bit. It'll come to you."

* * *

Out of everything they don't tell you about becoming a Grey Warden, the dreams are easily the worst.

I've spoken to many Wardens in my time, many Junior, some Senior. They were universally shaken by the nightmares brought on by the taint, stoicism notwithstanding. It's not hard to see why. The embodiment of evil and corruption mixed with the fade is enough to make the strongest of people blanch. You might think this is the part where I say I'm an exception.

You'd be wrong. _My _dreams were far worse.

"_**I missed you, little mortal!"**_

Case in point. "I can't say the feeling's mutual." I replied, grateful that I could speak this time. _Of course it's the same pride demon. _I took some satisfaction in seeing the glowing hole where I'd stabbed him last time, but I didn't think it'd do much to endear me to him.

"_**I haven't forgotten our last encounter, elf." **_It said, fingering the stab wound. _**"Having the power to harm me is a rare thing! Almost as rare as surviving an encounter with Sieruhne."**_

I folded my arms over my chest. "Mouse, is it? I hate to say, but you're talking to a dead man. The darkspawn beat you to me."

The demon chuckled, the sound resembling a rockslide. _**"Indeed? Such a pity. But then, if you were dead, no one would be pouring energy into that ruined body of yours." **_

I wasn't amused. "If you want to play games, fine, but don't lie to me! There is _nothing _that could have saved me! I'm lying dead at the top of a tower, being gnawed on by darkspawn!"

"_**Lie? Oh, demons never lie."**_

I snorted. "You just did."

"_**We kill, we possess, we cheat, we deceive, we hold grudges, but we never lie. If we did, if we went back on deals, who would ever seek out our help? Who would ever let us in if we couldn't be trusted to uphold our end of the bargain?"**_

I gestured dismissively. "Look, I don't care about what you want, or why you're here. I'm not saying yes to _any _deal you have! Your friend Sieruhne may have convinced Jowan, but the Dalish know better than Chantry magelings." I drew my blade. "Now leave, before I cast you out!"

"_**Oh, you can't do that this time, little fire!" **_It laughed. _**"You are not dead, and yet your body cannot awaken! You are trapped here!"**_

"I can still hurt you." I snarled. "Leave! I won't say it again."

It cocked its head. _**"Are you sure you want me to leave?"**_

"YES!"

It had the gall to sigh dramatically. _**"Very well, I shall leave. Farewell!" **_It began to fade from existence, swept away on the currents of the fade. As it did so, however, the green landscape surrounding us began to sicken. Blight, formless and terrible, encroached on the borders of my mind, clouding my vision. Frightening images and sensations, almost as bad as the Joining, again assaulted me.

I grit my teeth and tried to bear it. It was like gritting your teeth and bear getting flayed while drinking wyvern venom. Searing, ripping pain, terrifying nightmares, vertigo, nausea, all of it blended together.

It only got worse.

It might have lasted five minutes or five hours. In any case, the confusion began to fade. I suppose my mind was getting used to the taint, and could better understand what I was seeing. What I saw was horrifying. I saw the deaths of the Grey Wardens from the perspective of the darkspawn. I saw and felt what the ogre did when it crushed King Cailin. I flickered through the minds of countless darkspawn on the battlefield, greedily gnawing on the corpses, feeling the flesh stick in my teeth and my throat, frighteningly sweet to their senses.

The most terrifying thing was the pain. Every single one of them was in agony, demanding that they lash out, that they attack those who did not feel the same pain as they did. The sensation seeped into my being, sunk its claws into my mind, trying to tear me away from myself, to become something powerful, hungry, and terrible.

I howled. "MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP!"

Mouse took his time returning. By the time he had fully manifested, I was motionless on the ground, still murmuring "Stop… stop… stop… stop…"

Mouse laughed. _**"Now you see what I offer you. I could offer you money, power, fame, glory, any number of things that I have granted fools in the past! I may even grant some of them to you, when you let me in!" **_I didn't have the energy to protest. _**"What I offer, however, is a reprieve. Let me in, and I will put you in a dream, where there is no taint, there are no nightmares, where you never left your people!" **_

"What… do… body…"

"_**What will I do when I have you? That's nothing to worry yourself with. You'll be perfectly comfortable in the meantime."**_

"…No..."

Mouse shrugged, amusement somehow plain on its monstrous face. _**"I can be patient for a prize such as yourself. Enjoy the taint, and when you wish for death to free you, think of me. My offer stands."**_

I'll spare us both the details of my time in the fade after that. Needless to say, it wasn't pretty.

* * *

"You know, I think I know the perfect recruit for the Grey Wardens."

"… I tell you about the horrible nightmares, and THAT'S what occurs to you?"

"He's an elf, much like yourself, covered in lyrium tattoos. Broody guy, likes killing Tevinter slavers with big swords, you'd like him."

"…Okay, I'll bite. What's the punchline?"

"Punchline? There is no punchline. It'd just give him something else to complain about. It's a hobby of his."

"I'd like him, huh?"

"Don't take it bad! You're not as bad as Anders."

"Hmph. I feel so honored."

"What can I say? It's a gift."

* * *

I woke up in a cold sweat, feeling much as I had after touching the mirror. Burning thirst, ravenous hunger, and enough aches and pains to cripple most people. I, being frighteningly used to that sort of thing by this point in my life, sat up and rubbed the sand from my eyes. I didn't dare doze off again.

"Ah! Your eyes finally open. Mother will be pleased." I wheeled around and moved to draw my sword before stopping abruptly, the sharp movement sending a bolt of pain through my body. I realized belatedly that I wasn't armed in any way. Or armored, for that matter. I was dressed in nothing but bandages, stitches, and a pair of rough breeches I was fairly certain weren't mine.

Morrigan, she of the sultry bedroom voice, smirked. "I would not move too quickly, were I you." She said, sounding amused. "You're recovering from injuries that would kill a man twice your size."

I ignored her and took the opportunity to look around once my eyes worked properly. I was on a bed, though from the stiffness of it I could have mistaken it for a wooden floor with sheets. Surrounding me was a cabin, both shabby and spotlessly clean. Dried herbs lined the rafters, their scent mixing together in a dozen different ways that somehow remained tolerable. Standing apart from the sparse wooden furnishings like a wolf among deer was a massive chest made of a metal I hadn't seen before, too bright to be steel, and colored just wrong to be silver or gold.

Turning to Morrigan, I had a fairly good guess of where I was. "How am I in Asha'belannar's home?!" I could have continued, only to be overtaken by a coughing fit brought on by my dry throat.

Morrigan brought a cup of tea I hadn't seen to my lips. "Drink this slowly. 'Twill not go down well if you do not." I listened to her, taking small gulps to avoid choking. Like I said, I was frighteningly used to this sort of thing by this point in my life.

Fortunately, I also recognized the taste of the anesthetic after the first two swallows. I'd used similar drugs treating injured hunters, myself included. Ordinarily, it was just enough to numb the pain. This was enough to knock out a horse.

I spat out my mouthful and swatted the cup away. "NO! I've slept enough."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You expect to walk out of here after only a day?"

I answered her by swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing up, swaying unsteadily. "Something like that." I frowned at her. "And you didn't answer my question."

I derived some amusement from the surprise on her face. "I do not know how Mother retrieved you. When I asked, she just laughed and said she turned into a giant bird and plucked you from the top of that tower."

My eyes widened. "Did she rescue others as well? A young man and woman, one of them a mage?"

She nodded. "Indeed."

"Are they… are they alive?"

"Yes, yes." She said testily. "The two of them have been rather melancholy for people saved from certain death."

"Yes, it's entirely unreasonable that they can't see the forest for the thousands of dead corpses." I growled.

She cocked her head. "I don't believe I've heard that before."

"Point. Missing it."

She shrugged. "If you wish to make a point, use your words properly." She said, a note of condescension entering her voice.

I swayed dangerously for a moment as the second sip of tea hit me, barely managing to keep my legs underneath me. I glared at her amused expression. "Very well, I'll make this simple. Return my things to me, and take me to my companions. Swiftly, if you please."

"Very well." She scoffed, mocking my earlier words. "Your companions are just outside, and your things are next to the bed. 'Twill be amusing to see if you can walk that far." I made my way slowly to the other side of the bed. Blessedly, my travel pack had survived the battle mostly undamaged. _Thank the Creators. _I wasn't sure if it was a testament to my bravery or my stupidity that I'd taken so few cuts on my back.

After digging for a moment, I found my second set of clothes, folded up into a tight bundle. I shot a glance at Morrigan. "Do you mind?"

"Tis nothing I've not seen before. Who do you think healed you in the first place?"

"Suit yourself." I made to remove my breeches, and smirked when she huffed and turned to leave. Inwardly, I felt more than a little relieved that she hadn't called my bluff. Whether or not she'd seen my body already, I wasn't much of an exhibitionist.

* * *

"Thank the Maker for that."

"You're one to talk. You show off more of your chest than Morrigan did!"

"Really? I'm flattered you noticed."

"I notice all manner of fine things, regardless of the smartass they're attached to."

* * *

Speaking of which, I admit to admiring Morrigan's… rear aspect as she turned to leave. Haughty and sardonic as she was, it did nothing to detract from her physical features. I was a tad ashamed at the time, but looking back, I'm glad for it. As dire as the situation was, every young man needs a chance to be young and foolish.

My armor was utterly ruined, unfortunately, and I was unsurprised to see every single one of my knives missing, as well as my dagger. Flemeth would've had to pry them out of the darkspawn corpses they were now embedded in. I felt a pang of guilt when I saw that the masterfully crafted bow I'd taken from Master Ilen was missing. I wasn't as fond of archery as most Dalish Hunters, but I could appreciate the time and love the aged craftsmaster had put into it, and the thought of it in the hands of darkspawn sickened me.

Thankfully, my spirits were raised slightly when I saw that my blade had survived. _I didn't lose it, father. _It was heartening to see that, out of all the broken oaths of that battle, I had managed to keep this one, and the feel of cold ironbark in my unsteady hand was equally comforting. After a moment's consideration, I rigged the remains of my gauntlets into serviceable handwraps. I winced as I pulled them over my bruised knuckes, but considering how often things got out of hand and I had to start swinging, I thought it a necessity.

I limped my way outside, gritting my teeth with each step, and not just from my healing injuries. I had easily sprinted three miles in my made dash to the Tower of Ishal, much of it uphill. My feet, calves, and thighs, as a consequence, felt both stiff as a board and as wobbly as boiled noodles. Remembering Morrigan's taunt, I refused to let it show on my face and made my way to the edge of the pond, where Alistair and Ellie stood.

I forced myself to smile. "Aneth ara." The two of them spun around fast enough that I thought their necks might snap, looks of shock on their faces.

Alistair recovered first, his face pale. "You're… you're alive." He said with something approaching reverence. "I thought you were dead for sure!" Ellie's response was less vocal. She stepped forward as if in a trance, mouth moving soundlessly, and laid a hesitant hand on my chest, as if afraid I would break if she prodded me too hard, which wasn't far from the truth. After a moment of looking torn between crying and hitting me, she pulled me into a crushing hug and buried her head in my chest.

My protesting ribs pushed me to try and dislodge her. When I felt tears soaking into my shirt, I decided to ignore them. "Ellie… it's fine… I'm alright!" I managed to choke out. Her grip loosened somewhat, but she remained where she was, her shoulders heaving with sobs. I wrapped my arms around her protectively. "I'm not going anywhere. It takes more than a few darkspawn to kill me."

Alistair blinked back tears. "Duncan's dead. Cailin's dead. The Grey Wardens are dead." He took a shuddering breath, trying to compose himself. "I'm sorry, it just… it doesn't seem real."

"I know." I said quietly. "How are you holding up?"

I wasn't surprised when Ellie answered. "I… I've been better." Her voice trembled, like a child pretending they weren't afraid. Alistair nodded in agreement, his face pale.

Over the years, many have remarked upon my ability to remain calm and rational, even in the face of disaster. It's a notion that I've tried to dissuade them of, with little success, for two reasons. First of all, there have been many occasions where I've been neither calm nor rational. One example stands out in particular, though I'll forgive its omission, as I don't believe anyone save myself is aware of it. Second, I'm excellent at pretending, or lying if you're feeling uncharitable.

Between that and my stubborn Dalish pride, I didn't have much of a choice beyond trying to hold things together. "We all have." I answered gently. A massive understatement, if ever there was one. I turned to Alistair. "Did Asha'belannar tell you what happened?"

Alistair nodded tightly. "Yes. Loghain quit the field after the signal was lit. I can scarcely believe it!"

"I was there." I said grimly. "The beacon was lit, but the flank charge never materialized. Around the same time, Loghain's handpicked archers stopped firing from the canyon edge. With no archer support or reinforcements, our lines were torn apart by ogres."

His features hardened. "That all points to one person."

I nodded. "Only Loghain could have given those orders."

"That flaming traitor!" He cursed. I blinked in surprise at the harshness of his tone. "Why would he do this?"

"I have a theory, but I'd like to think on it a bit more."

Ellie spoke up. "Could you please stop talking over my head?" She asked reproachfully, muffled by my shirt."

Alistair and I blushed, him more so than I. "Sorry." We said in unison.

I heard a raspy chuckle. "They only talk over your head because you allow them, dear girl. You should try speaking over _their_ heads! It would suit you better than they."

I turned and inclined my head respectfully, my arms still around Ellie. "Asha'belannar."

Alistair was less composed. "Maker's breath!" He hissed when he turned around to see her, standing there as if she'd been there all along. For all I knew, she had.

She cocked her head, amused. "Such manners! I doubt your companions want to use such a cumbersome title, however. Call me Flemeth, if you must."

Alistair made a noise I normally associated with someone being punched in the throat. Ellie gasped. "Flemeth?"

Flemeth harrumphed. "I really should get a new name. It's getting tiresome, everyone assuming I'm going to eat their livers. As if I had nothing better to do!"

"So… you're Flemeth? _The _Flemeth?" Ellie asked, her voice hushed.

Flemeth made a dismissive gesture. "I'm an old woman that lives in the Wilds and knows a bit of magic. If that's so remarkable, then yes, I'm _the _Flemeth!"

I wasn't familiar with the human legends surrounding Asha'belannar, but I didn't doubt they were born of fear and superstition. Just as well. A healthy amount of fear was a good thing to have around her. "We mean no disrespect, Asha'belannar." I said, the elvish rolling off my tongue easier than the human name for her. "It's just… how did you rescue us? _Why _did you rescue us? I do not claim to know you, but among my people you are not known for charity."

She laughed. "No? Is it so odd that I have good reason behind my actions?"

"Knowing your reasons might help alleviate the oddness." I said, trying to keep an edge out of my voice.

"You're a smart lad!" She said mockingly. "Why, when there's an unchecked Blight surrounding my home, would I rescue Grey Wardens?"

Alistair stirred at that. "You rescued us because we're Grey Wardens?"

"If that's the reason you choose, then by all means. It's a good one."

"Then why didn't you rescue Duncan?!" He demanded. "Why didn't you rescue the ones who actually knew what they were doing, instead of the three most junior members?!"

It was a good question. I was curious myself.

Sadly, we didn't hear the true reason for why she rescued us, or how she knew where we were for that matter. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I don't remember the reason she gave us at the time. I imagine she brushed us off, or evaded the question in some way. In any case, what's important isn't the lie she told, but the truth she concealed, and that I only discovered much later.

Not quite satisfied with her answer, and growing increasingly weary of Alistair taking out his frustrations on an old woman that could likely gut him like a fish, I decided to steer the conversation to more productive waters. "How do Grey Warden's end the Blight? None of the other Wardens were particularly forthcoming after my Joining." Flemeth, for her part, was content to listen with an amused expression on her face.

"We have to kill the Archdemon." Ellie, having disentangled herself from my arms, furrowed her brow. "It's supposed to be a dragon of some sort. Kill it, and the horde scatters."

I shot a surprised look at her. "How do you know that?" _Did she have the same dream I did? _

She did her best to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I lived in a tower full of books for my entire life." She said, sounding both embarrassed and amused at the same time. "All of the old stories agree."

_She probably knows what she's talking about. _I'd seen the library at Kinloch hold twice during my visit, once during the day, once at night when I'd relieved it of a few choice tomes. On both occasions, I'd been stunned at how many books there were. After living there for the better part of two decades without seeing the outside world or being allowed anything that seemed to approach having fun, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd read every book twice over.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "_Right. _Fight through the horde, kill the Archdemon, and be back in time for lunch. Why didn't I think of that?"

Ellie flushed. I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and shot Alistair a withering look. "_Enough. _We need a plan of action, not sarcasm."

"Aw, really? If we needed sarcasm, I'm worth an army."

I frowned. _How do I get him to take this seriously? _While I was worried about that, the word "army" seemed to have struck a chord with Ellie. "The Grey Wardens of old gathered armies to fight the darkspawn. They can demand aid of anyone, even the Chantry during a Blight."

I snapped my fingers as a thought hit me. "Do we have those treaties we retrieved?"

Ellie nodded and retrieved the small pack she'd carried with her from the Circle. "Duncan gave them to me for safekeeping." I raised an eyebrow. "What?" She said defensively. "The Tower of Ishal was supposed to be the safest place on the battlefield. He asked me to use my magic to preserve them, and left it at that."

"He didn't trust me?" Alistair asked, dismay plain on his face.

Flemeth startled us with a throaty chuckle. "He trusted her to keep them safe. From what I gather, he trusted you to keep _her _safe."

Alistair's mouth opened and closed a few times before he sighed. "Well, that's something, I suppose." He said, mollified somewhat.

Reminded of Flemeth's presence, I turned to her. "Do you know what an Archdemon is, Asha'belannar?"

"And why do you ask me, hm? History teaches us that it is a dragon that must be slain to end the Blight. Only fools ignore history."

"Only fools ignore the truth." I countered. "And your memory is longer than that of shemlen historians who were not alive during the last Blight."

"HA!" She laughed. "So I'm who you turn to when you seek truth? As I recall, I'm fond of lies as well."

I gave a small smile. "Not now, I think."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because you need the Blight to end, and lying to us will kill you just as easily as it will us." She gave me a long, piercing look, no longer playful. It was hard and cold as a sword in winter. It spoke of unfathomable age, loss, and the undeniable authority she might wield if she so chose. I spoke to Ellie and Alistair afterwards, and they both said that it lasted a heartbeat. It seemed to me like an eternity, near as bad as the nightmare I'd faced. With difficulty, I met her eyes and kept my smile, though it had fled from my eyes and was etched on my face as if I were a statue.

After a long moment, she laughed again, throaty and delighted, the terrible power fleeing and leaving only a batty old woman. "Clever, clever." I heard Ellie give a small sigh of relief. Likely she felt the danger more acutely than Alistair, given her magical training. "Know this, then. An Archdemon is said to be an Old God of the Tevinter Imperium, corrupted by the Blight. It is more than a dragon. It is old and powerful, and none have slain one and lived to speak of it." After a pause, she shrugged. "That is what has reached my ears. Make of it what you will."

There have been many times when I have doubted my course of action. Small moments in a fight, where I gamble with a feint. Longer moments, such as the night before a battle, where there is naught but nerve wracking waiting for one to question every aspect of the chosen strategy. The greatest wave of doubt hit me when Flemeth finished speaking of the Archdemon.

I knew my limits. I'd never fought a dragon of any kind, nor a creature that could breathe fire, and the last time I'd faced a creature with strength beyond men I'd ended up with a fractured leg. And who would fight with me? A former Templar, who was at best reasonably talented in combat, and a mage who could barely defend herself? Before the brilliance I had seen, were but candle flames.

It couldn't be done.

_So many lives are at stake._

It was impossible.

_Even my people aren't safe._

I wasn't a hero from the stories.

_Can I leave them to their fate and do nothing?_

I'd die.

_I'm dead already. The price for my life was fighting darkspawn. _

I sighed inwardly. _I can promise nothing. What I CAN do is gather an army. From there… we'll see. _"We can't face such a creature alone." I said, drawing looks of worry from Ellie and Alistair. "So we'll gather what troops we can, and point them right down the bastard's throat." I finished, putting some steel into my voice.

Flemeth smiled. "That you will." Good, now we could- "And before you go, I have a favor to ask. Consider it repayment for saving your lives." _Shit._

I'd assumed repayment was in the form of ending the Blight, but I didn't think this was the best time to be picky. "What is it?" I said, trying to keep the petulance out of my voice.

She smirked at that. "I ask that you take my daughter with you."

It probably doesn't speak well of me that an image of Morrigan's assets was the first thing that came to mind. If ever she hears this, I don't doubt she would be amused. At the time, however, I was glad for the privacy of my thoughts. She'd have been as apt to laugh or immolate me.

As it was, I nearly died of fright when a raven swooped down and shifted before our eyes into a livid Morrigan, crying, "What?!"

Alistair cursed loudly(albeit religiously, so it was about as threatening as a cat without its claws), while Ellie simply stared with fascination. I was trying to get my heartbeat under control, leaving Flemeth, the only one of us not surprised in the slightest, to respond. "You heard me girl. One would think after eavesdropping for so long you'd have working ears!"

Alistair recovered from his bout of cursing. "Er, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but don't we have _enough _trouble? I mean, she _is _an apostate."

Thankfully, Flemeth saved me the trouble of lambasting his religious upbringing. "If it wasn't for us illegal mages, you would be dead on top of that tower."

Alistair had the sense to look appropriately chastened. "Point taken."

Morrigan, meanwhile, wasn't ready to concede defeat. "But Mother, I'm not ready! There's so much _more _I need to-"

"You need to be ready, girl." Flemeth interjected. "Without you, these Grey Wardens will fail, and the Blight will swallow all. Even I."

With that cheerful vote of confidence, Morrigan gave in. "Very well." She turned to the three of us. "If you will wait a moment, I will gather my things."

Mind you, I don't think she was wholly against the idea of going somewhere that wasn't cold, damp, and populated by an old woman that was entirely too fond of insulting and commanding in the same breath.

* * *

Her things, unfortunately, did not include a change of clothes, which meant my ongoing mantra of _lookatherfacelookatherface _wasn't going to stop any time soon. "I am at your disposal, Wardens." She sounded like she was in pain saying that. I imagine she hadn't planned on seeing us after our departure, and after her rather chilly attitude, this was probably more awkward for her than me. And that was sayings something. "I can offer my opinion on our course of action, _or _I could simply be your mute guide, if you prefer." She sounded like she expected option two.

Option one it was. "No, I'd prefer you speak your mind."

Flemeth chortled "HA! You'll regret that soon enough."

Morrigan rounded on her. "Dear, sweet mother. I look forward to reminiscing of this moment! Take care to avoid letting the hut burn down, lest I have nothing to come back to!"

Flemeth, per usual, wasn't buying it. "Bah! Far more likely you return and find everything around us swallowed by the Blight!"

"I-"

"I couldn't let you get the last word, could I?" Flemeth chided, half mockingly, half motherly, though describing her as such makes my tongue want to curl up in protest. "Oh, and do try to have fun, dear." Her mouth curved deviously, and her eyes flicked over to me.

What.

* * *

Apologies for the wait! The end of the semester is kicking my ass, as it were, and finals are looking to delay the next chapter a bit as well, unfortunately.

Surprisingly, the biggest challenge I found in this chapter was the dialogue. In game, you never question why it takes so little time to come to the decision to singelhandedly gather an army and kill the Archdemon, despite it being a dragon, a god, and surrounded by minldless slaves to its will that vastly outnumber whatever forces you could hope to put together. It was a balance between expediency, as I don't think standing around talking in the wilds is particularly interesting to those who have seen that scene a dozen times, and addressing what actual people, not game characters, might experience.

Of all the chapters, this is the one I'm the least satisfied with, but if you like it, hate it, or want to send it chocolates before I find the time to edit it, leave a review! Every writer depends on good criticism, and much like Aegnor with women, I'm no exception.


	8. Chapter 8: The Walking Wounded

Step.

_Ow._

Step.

_Ow._

Step.

_Ow._

I gritted my teeth and refused to make a sound. The symphony of my protesting muscles, not to mention my still mending injuries, was little improved by two days of hard travel. My recently fractured leg was frustratingly weak, causing me to limp like an old man. After the surge in vitality I'd experienced after the Joining, the thought was galling. _At least it's temporary. _

I cursed as my foot struck a rock I hadn't seen. Ellie was at my side in a flash, giving me a concerned look. "Are you alright?" She asked softly, as she'd done a dozen times since we broke camp. It was touching, heartwarming, and had I managed to permanently damage something, potentially lifesaving.

After a dozen times, however, it was wearing thin. "I'm _fine, _Ellie!" I snapped. She recoiled, as if struck. _Fenedhis, get ahold of yourself! _I forced myself to take a breath. "Just… just a rock, is all." I trailed off towards the end, embarrassed.

She relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry we have to keep going, but…"

I grimaced. "The darkspawn. I sense them too." _Lost too much time recovering. _

She shivered at the word 'sense'. "I didn't think anything could feel creepier than a horror spell."

I gave her a lopsided grin. "And how do you know what one of those feels like? Did you manage to hex yourself?"

She huffed, laughter beneath the surface. "I am… not good with entropic spells." She admitted. "I somehow managed to hit everyone in the same room as me, myself included. After the usual accusations of corruption and whatnot, I was forbidden from using that spell again."

With a little effort, I made a pained gasp sound like a laugh. _Stupid rocks. _"It could've been worse."

She frowned. "How so?"

"It could've been a fire spell." I said, expecting to get a laugh out of her. Instead, she looked very pointedly at her toes and grew quiet. My eyebrows shot up. "No!"

She bit her lip. "I was… _discouraged _from using offensive magic."

"That can't be!" I protested. "You didn't have any problems with the darkspawn in the Wilds."

She flushed. "I… well… I _did _practice, just… carefully." She said, sounding very small.

"How'd you manage that?" I asked, impressed.

She furrowed her brow. "It's… difficult to explain."

"Tell you what. Do your best to explain it, and I'll help you when you ask Morrigan to teach you shapeshifting."

She flushed even deeper. "Maker, how'd you know?"

I chuckled. "You've been sending rather fascinated looks her way ever since she displayed that particular talent."

"So have you!" She said indignantly, digging an elbow into my side. I grunted in pain as my abused ribs reminded me that until they were mended, I was at their mercy. She gasped. "Oh, Maker! I'm sorry!" A nimbus of healing magic engulfed me, quick as blinking, and eased that pain, and more besides.

I shot her a grateful look, then frowned when I saw the sweat beading on her forehead. "You shouldn't tire yourself." I admonished.

She gave a tired laugh. "I hit you and heal you, and it's the healing you complain about? You're weird."

"I'm serious. No amount of healing's going to make me useful in a fight at this point." I gave her a playful look. "I'm officially your damsel in distress. The least you can do is be ready to defend my virtue."

She shook her head. "I don't know why it's so tiring to heal you. It's like I'm trying to heal a dragon, or whatever else is big enough that a sword wound looks like a paper cut."

"Maybe I am a dragon. It'd explain why you have to save me from injuring myself. I'm the damsel and dragon both in this story."

She huffed in frustration, then let the subject drop. "How do you even know about damsels? Do Dalish have those in their bedtime stories?"

I shook my head. "I bought a book of human tales from a human trader. The Keeper wasn't happy I'd used the clan's money on something so frivolous, but it's been useful." I checked to see if Morrigan had returned from scouting, then mentally kicked myself. If she'd returned, I'd have heard her insulting Alistair from the Waking Sea. Alistair, for his part, seemed content to plod on ahead of us like a large, mute puppy. _I should talk to him_. He'd been that way for a while now, and it occurred to me that I'd been less than kind to him in recent days.

Of course, he'd been going to sleep early most nights, though I could hear him tossing and turning. _Nightmares. _I didn't know if his were as bad as mine. If they were, he was a brave, brave man. I hadn't dared sleep since I'd woken up in Flemeth's hut. I like to think I wore it well, but signs were beginning to show through the cracks. My shortening temper, my flagging strength, the bags underneath my eyes… _Damn you, Mouse. _

One of the many things the mirror seemed to do to me was make me shine like a beacon for every demon in the fade. _Maybe ask Ellie about it? She might know. There must have been something in that library on the subject. _I got the feeling that if I shared that side of myself with Morrigan, she'd stab it with a fork. At least Ellie could distract me from exhaustion. It has ever been my belief that the true magic in this world is how talking to a pretty young woman who _wasn't _a harpy makes lack of sleep seem a trivial thing indeed. As far as I'm aware, that is a feat that no magic has managed to replicate.

Belatedly, I realized that Ellie had said something and was waiting for my response. I turned sharply, guilt coloring my features. "Could you repeat that? Sorry, I wasn't listening."

She pouted. "I was asking which story was your favorite."

I grunted. "I'm Dalish. Why would I like human stories?"

"Hush. There had to be _one _that you liked!"

"Well…" I was tempted to keep up the façade, but her look of earnest expectation defeated me. "I liked Dane and the Werewolf." I admitted. "That a nomadic, barbarian hunter could be a hero was… compelling to me."

She favored me with a small smile. "You're blushing!"

"No I'm not!" I protested, undermining my words by feeling my ears. They were radiating heat. _Dammit. _

"You are!" She practically sang.

"Fenedhis lasa, shemlen! Halam!"

She grinned. "You want humans to _like _you! You want to be a hero!" I growled, and she infuriated me further by needling me further. "I bet you want to ride a milk-white stallion, with golden hair and shining armor! You never hear of redheads being heroes."

Such blows to my manly pride could not be borne. Something had to be done. "Laugh it up." I snarled, made all the less threatening by me nearly pitching forward after striking a protruding root I hadn't noticed. I regained my balance with all of the dignity I could muster. "You still haven't told me how you practiced magic."

"Oh, that!" Her grin faded as she hummed thoughtfully. "On one condition."

"Yes?"

She pointed at Alistair's backside, a good twenty paces ahead of us. "Tell him what's about to happen. He seems decent enough for a Templar, but some are twitchy with their Holy Smites." She said, grimacing.

I furrowed my brow. "What's a Holy Smite? It sounds like a fancy way of shoving a sword through someone."

"It's, um… it's exactly that, I guess."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Except it can stab lots of people at a time, he doesn't need his sword out to do it, he can hit me from over there, and it _really_ hurts."

_Not to self: wheedle Alistair into teaching me. _Whatever it was, it sounded bloody useful. I nodded my assent to Ellie, before noticing a problem. "Um… his legs are longer than mine."

"So?"

"And I'm limping."

She frowned. "Oh. Right."

A pause. "Could you… get him for me? I can't convince him from back here."

"Couldn't you, I don't know, yell at him? He's not _that _far ahead."

I frowned. "He's had a hard time of it lately. I don't think he needs me yelling at him." I said. I thought for a moment. "We should probably have him here for this anyway."

Ellie's eyes flashed, both with fear and anger. "Why, so he can kill me if I get possessed?!"

"Creators, no!"

"Then-"

I cut her off. "I don't give a damn about the Templars and their sacred duty! They can beat each other bloody with the sticks they have up their asses for all I care." She looked highly tempted to smile at that, keeping her enraged expression through force of will. "I'm more concerned with keeping Alistair from either wallowing in grief or being put down by Morrigan for five minutes. It's not healthy."

She sighed in resignation. "Alright. Just… don't laugh if I'm twitchy, okay? I haven't done this around anyone _ever. _Especially Templars."

"I'll resist my natural urge to jeer and mock." I deadpanned. She shook her head and ran ahead to tell Alistair to wait up. I like to think that she told him to stop flaunting his freakishly long legs and accept his Maker's punishment for his pridefulness, but as I've said, I was harder on Alistair than I should have been. Ellie might have said that I was doing this to be nice, and I'm afraid the simple truth was that I couldn't stand the sight of him wallowing in grief for a second longer, and I was in no shape to beat it out of him in sparring.

Then again, it may have been for the best. After what had happened with Ellie, my favored method might have needed some revising.

Thankfully, sending Ellie proved more effective than yelling and throwing rocks. She'd managed to make him smile, though he still looked rather sickly. "Oh, I get it. Appealing to my inner Templar with unsanctioned magic. Keep it up and you'll make a decent Grand Cleric."

I smiled at that. It was good to hear him snark. "Chantry doctrine is quite predictable. Mage bad, sword good, prayers better. Savage elf heathen _very _bad." I said, lowering my voice an octave and giving it a guttural quality.

He raised an eyebrow. "Like Dalish are any better. Just turn up your nose at everything and tweak every nose in sight."

I bristled at that. Ellie was familiar with that side of me, and got between us before I could form a retort. "Okay. Magic. The reason we're all talking."

Still a bit red in the face, I nodded. Taking a slow breath, she exhaled it, creating a small orb of white-purple energy as she did so. It floated above her head. "This is a variant of an arcane bolt, the most basic attack available to a Mage without a staff." She said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice. Ducking her head slightly at the both of us paying close attention, she hurried onwards. "Ordinarily, a Mage unleashes it as quickly as possible, to negate the drain on their mana and more quickly move on to another spell. After my… _accident _with primal magic, I did some research and decided to refine my basics. The result is what you see here." She gestured rather unnecessarily at the orb.

Alistair frowned. "Why don't other mages do this? It seems like it'd be good for light, if nothing else."

Ellie blushed slightly. "It's, um… I _think _I'm the only Mage who's figured it out."

My eyebrows shot up. "I take it 'some' research was an understatement?"

She nodded reluctantly. "It took me nearly three years to maintain just the one. Established magical theory had very little on the subject."

I smiled appreciatively. I could understand that sort of drive. Alistair was somewhat more worried. "But I saw you use nearly a dozen of them! Is that even safe?"

"Yes!" She replied sharply, surprising both me and Alistair with the edge in her voice. "I seem to remember saving your life with them, so _don't _make an issue of it. This is how I use magic. End of story."

Alistair flinched. "Alright, fine! Maker's Breath, if I ever get that twitchy, you're behind Morrigan as far as my paranoia's concerned."

She relaxed slightly at that. "Sorry, it's just… I never showed this to the Templars because I thought they'd react like you did."

I tried to smile reassuringly, though I think I failed. _Creators, I need to watch where I'm stepping! My feet can't take much more of this! _"Don't worry about it. I, for one, am curious. What I know about magic would fit into a thimble."

She nodded, mollified somewhat. "As Alistair said, I can create more than the one." I was about to say that I'd seen her do so back at the tower, before realizing how monumentally stupid that would be, given Alistair's delicate mental state. Both of us being exposed to such powerful blood magic would be rather horrifying to the man. As it was, he looked rather nervous when the singular orb was replaced by a dozen.

I blinked and tried to focus on her face without going cross eyed from the light and motion. "They're pretty." I offered.

She smiled faintly. "Of course, if this was all I could do, I wouldn't be a terribly good battlemage. What's important is, in this controlled form, I can change them from pure magical energy into any other- well, _almost _any other form and move them in the same way." To prove her point, the glowing orbs shifted into flickering balls of flame, to frost, to lightning, to some form of conjured stone the color of malachite, and back to their original state.

I could not say who was more stunned at the display. I think it was Alistair.

She giggled like a child who'd pulled a clever prank. "It's been so long since I've been able to practice!" The orbs doubled in number, and began cycling back and forth between the various states, each one independent of the others in the order and rate at which they changed. The display, while highly impressive, was more than a little disorienting to look at, forcing me to avert my eyes lest I finally succeed in breaking my toes on the uneven terrain. Alistair, for his part, was enraptured until he broke down cursing about "Maker-cursed rocks in league with the darkspawn". I smiled, then winced as the various orbs, regardless of their elemental state, began shifting different colors, though from what I could tell the stones were limited to a shade of green. _Curious_. Either this was a light exercise or Ellie was a bit of a showoff.

Alistair looked somewhat queasy at the blatant use of magic, and I am not proud enough to deny ignoring him in favor of pestering Ellie with questions, half out of burning curiosity, half out of the desire to make this damnable trek go faster. Ellie, for her part, seemed increasingly delighted that I was responding with questions as opposed to cursing her existence and expecting her to grow horns, and gave answers far longer and more detailed than a young Dalish Hunter could hope to follow. I'm sure it was all interesting. It certainly sounded important.

I smiled and nodded at what she was saying, managing a form of half comprehension thanks to the little demonstrations she kept giving. _I guess we all need someone to talk to. _I imagined that this was something that she hadn't had the chance for in months. I toyed with the idea of gushing for a change and seeing if it did me any good, then swiftly discarded it. What would I talk about? Swordplay? Archery? Hunting? _Herblore, maybe. _I made a face. _Not very interesting, though. _

Sadly, Morrigan chose that moment to fly back and shift into human form. "You may wish to move faster, Wardens."

The superiority in her voice set my face into a grimace. "And why is that?" I grumbled, already knowing the answer.

She scoffed. "What else? There are no groups of a worrisome size other than the darkspawn because all of them have fled." She shrugged. "Tis of no concern to me whether you move faster or not. _I _can escape them."

I grit my teeth and forced myself to ignore her. Alistair, however, couldn't resist a snipe. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? For all of us to be dead so you can eat tree bark in peace."

"Oh?" Alistair's comment had left her far from ruffled. "Then by all means, scout out the darkspawn yourself and ensure that no _swooping _will bring an end to the remaining Grey Wardens! Ah, I forgot, you _can't!"_

Alistair's face turned beet red and he started to respond hotly before I cut him off. "ENOUGH!" I bellowed, loud enough to make even Morrigan flinch. "You can either stop insulting each other, or you can curb your tongues unless Ellie or I speaks to you. If this is beyond you, I imagine I could find a five year old who can teach you how to play nice." I glared at both of them. "Understood?"

Morrigan huffed, proud as ever. "Maybe if he weren't such a fool, I could tolerate him."

Alistair scoffed. "And if you weren't such a harpy, I'd stop getting flashbacks of your mother. You have the same nose and everything."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed, doing my best to ignore my pounding headache and the weight dragging at my eyelids. "Silence it is, then. The one who breaks that rule I will personally throw into a bog." Not the most diplomatic of approaches, which I imagine comes as a _complete _shock to you, but lack of sleep does not lend itself to a reasoned approach.

Thankfully, it worked. I wasn't looking forward to making good on my threat.

* * *

**Apologies it took so long this time around. Finals were murder. I should be more regular from now on. In the meantime, some of the sorely needed talky bits that I should've included in earlier chapters.**

**Many thanks to BlunderBore and RhydianStorm for their reviews! **


	9. Chapter 9: The Tale of Garahel

Varric stroked his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. Aegnor did his best to ignore. When he'd reached the end of his last anecdote, he shot him a peevish look. "Is there a reason you have that look on your face?"

Varric started. "What look?" He asked, putting both hands to his face as if he could find out by touch.

Aegnor snorted. "You know the one. It's the one you make when you're mixing the truth with bullshit and spinning it into gold. So spit it out. What little detail has you so enamored?"

Varric laughed. "Truth and bullshit strung into gold. At least you admit it's better for me spinning it." Still chortling, he held up his hands defensively at Aegnor's impatient expression. "Alright, fine. I never would have guessed the rumors were true."

Aegnor frowned. "You'll need to narrow it down. There are a _lot _of rumors about that time of my life that aren't true."

"Well, it's one about Ellie." Seeing Aegnor tense up, he hurried on. "Nothing bad, just something I found amusing. The rumor was that she was considered the worst battlemage in the history of Kinloch Hold before she was recruited. Most people write it off as nonsense, looking at what she accomplished, but if she had to find an entirely _new _way of casting spells because of how badly she botched the usual ones, then I owe Vivienne a sovereign!"

Aegnor raised an eyebrow. "Vivienne told you that one?"

"Yep."

Aegnor made a noise of disgust. "Harpy. And here I thought Wynne was bad with her Circle-supremacist attitude. That strict, disciplined, _Chantry approved _training of hers would've seen her whipped like the snobby bitch she is in a scrap with Ellie. Shame she isn't worth the effort."

Varric chuckled. "I'd tell you to keep your voice down, but that you don't like her is probably the least of her problems with you. Call me crazy, but you being a wild elf heathen who detests the Chantry and likes killing Templars _might _have put you in bad standing."

"I could care." Aegnor said dismissively. "To be honest, she's nothing special. She wears her superiority like a suit of clothes she never takes off. It's a good façade, but I've met those for whom it's as easy as breathing."

Varric made a noise of disbelief. "Who could you have met who's better at looking down their nose at you than Iron Lady?"

Aegnor smiled. "An Orlesian Bardmaster, an Orlesian noblewoman, a Ferelden Witch, every Pride Demon I've ever met, two Knight Commanders… well, maybe more, I can't recall. Creators, even Cassandra."

Varric's eyebrows shot up. "The Seeker? She's not _that _bad. A bit too fond of interrogations, though."

Aegnor made a conciliatory gesture. "I'm inclined to agree now, but when I first showed up… I could feel judgement, moral superiority, and rage pouring off her in waves. Something that instinctual can't be faked. 'Iron Lady' has so far displayed the heat and passion of an iron statue."

Varric opened his mouth to respond, only to be forestalled by Aegnor gesturing for silence. His ears twitched, actually _twitched, _something Varric had never seen before. His face broke into a slow smile. "_Play along." _He whispered, his expression as cunning as a child. "The Scrolls of Banastor were a great boon!" He said loudly, prompting Varric to wince and raise an eyebrow. "Such lore, of course, has been brutally censored by the Chantry, but thanks to them we learned much hidden lore on Blood Magic."

"And why in the name of Andraste would you want that?" Varric asked, wondering where he was going with this.

"To use, of course!" Aegnor said triumphantly with a shit eating grin. "And to pass along to the Mage Collective. I imagine it worked its way through the mage underground from the Korcari Wilds to the Free Marches by the end of the year." He held up a hand with three fingers.

"Wha-" Aegnor lowered one, then two, then clenched his hand into a fist and gestured dramatically towards the door.

As if on cue, Cassandra stormed into the room, her face a thunderstorm. "You did WHAT Warden?!"

Aegnor smirked, unperturbed by the glare that cowed so many others. "It's rude to eavesdrop, you know."

She scoffed. "I hardly think that's-"

"Relevant? I'd disagree." He gave a heavy, dramatic sigh. "All I ask for is a little time and trust to set the record straight and you come barging in here to interrupt us! I'm insulted."

"He's right, Seeker." Varric added, more than willing to get in on the fun now that he saw the joke. "How would you have felt if someone barged into your interrogation over some tidbit they overheard entirely out of context? They'd have been lucky to keep breathing!"

Cassandra's features were colored bright red, a battle between fury and confusion. "I-"

Aegnor put up a hand. "I'm willing to forgive you this once, but I must ask that you leave us in peace. You've got me all in a muddle now, it'll take me even longer to finish this."

"His story is even longer than Hawke's, after all." Varric added. "And there's a lot fewer lulls in the excitement."

Cassandra, being a competent strategist, seemed to realize when retreat is ones only option. Drawing up as much dignity as she could muster, she turned on her heel and marched out, pausing only to shoot the pair a venomous look before slamming the door.

Aegnor grinned lazily. "Chantry loyalists are far too predictable for their own good. Mention blood magic and the mage underground and they come running."

Varric chortled. "I knew you had it in you, Wildfire."

Aegnor shrugged modestly, ruined by the remains of the grin on his face. "Probably for the best she didn't eavesdrop on this next part. She'd probably accuse me of wasting time while completely ignoring the importance of narrative flow. Characters need to be introduced, and this one is as important as they get!"

"Oh?" Varric had his pen in hand quicker than blinking. "And who would that be?"

Aegnor smiled. "Garahel."

"What?"

"Let me explain."

* * *

Most groups, however disciplined, have their quirks when camping. Even in a Qunari military camp, where discipline comes as easily as breathing, there's always the guy who combs the ground where they sleep to avoid rocks digging into their back, or the paranoid one who sleeps with no less than three weapons within easy reach at all times. Given our varied backgrounds and personalities, I'm honestly surprised ours didn't stray into the outright bizarre.

Morrigan decided early on that she'd like as much distance between her and us as possible, invariably pitching her tent, a curious construction made from a purple fabric I'd never seen before, well away from the central fire. I didn't mind. Between her abrasive personality and her flaunting of her assets, I didn't need the hormonal whiplash.

Alistair _meditated, _of all things, something that baffled me. What was the point of sitting very still with your legs crossed and eyes closed? There were a startling amount of variations, such as sitting with his sword across his lap or kneeling with his shield held over his head. The only things keeping me from ranting about how bloody unnerving it was were Ellie's habits, which were nothing less than utterly fascinating.

She produced from her pack a truly astounding amount of somehow intact glassware that fitted together into various apparatus, some of which I'd seen at the Circle, though these were smaller and looked to have been modified to a significant degree. One smelled of cut stone and lightning, the second I was warned away from if I valued my sinuses, and the third smelled suspiciously of apple brandy. I could only assume that she was using some form of magic to keep all of it from shattering. At my insistence, she tried explaining what she was doing, but I was soon bogged down by the sheer size of the vocabulary needed. Kinetically induced spontaneous calcification is not a process easily explained, as it turns out, let alone the process one requires to replicate it. In my fatigue, I made the mature decision to write it all off as magic. Especially the parts that weren't magic.

As for me? After two days of remaining awake, I finally set up my hammock and surrendered to sleep. I shant bore you with the details of my nightmares then, save that Mouse was quite the artist when it came to screwing with my head.

I woke up the next morning feeling better than I had in a while, despite some shaking in my hands. Thankfully, some apple brandy and a hearty breakfast did wonders for my mood, and the night's rest had almost completely rid me of any lingering weakness. A quick healing spell from Ellie took care of the rest, and with my head screwed on a bit tighter, I felt ready to discuss some burning issues. "Ellie, Alistair, hold off on packing up for a moment. MORRIGAN!" I shouted, my voice easily carrying to her separate campsite.

She stopped whatever she was doing, no doubt nefarious in the eyes of the Chantry, and stalked over. "What is it?" She asked peevishly.

"Group meeting." I said cheerfully, prompting her to raise an eyebrow. "We don't have a destination in mind once we get out of the Wilds, among other things, and I'd like everyone's input before we decide. Yours included." That mollified her somewhat, and she sat down next to the embers of the campfire, remaining as distant from Alistair as possible. He didn't seem to mind.

I took a sip from my waterskin before continuing. "The first thing we need to do is determine where we can resupply once we're out of the Wilds. Regardless of which treaty we pursue first, we'll need provisions to reach there. Do any of you know a place close by?"

Morrigan nodded. "The village of Lothering is close by, and accessible by the Imperial Highway. We should be able to get what we need from there."

I gave a hum of contentment. "Perfect. From there, we have three treaties: the Dwarves of Orzammar, the Dalish of the Brecilian Forest, and Kinloch Hold. Based on recent events," Ellie's expression grew pained, "I think we should avoid Kinloch Hold until we've gathered some support. Grey Warden treaties will mean more when we've got armed people with swords and titles backing us up."

Alistair frowned. "I admit that Templars have a collective stick up their ass, but surely they wouldn't deny us after the army was destroyed!"

Ellie and I looked at each other. "They would." We said in unison.

"But-"

I put my hand up. "We've been there recently, you haven't. And as of two weeks ago, they wanted nothing more than Ellie's head on a spike, preferably with mine to make it a matching set."

"Maker's breath, what did you _do_?"

Seeing Ellie's reticent expression, I shook my head. "I'll tell you the important bits later. Suffice to say I got into multiple shouting matches with the Knight-Commander and stole more than a few things, some of them both priceless and irreplaceable, and they've likely concluded that I was the culprit since we left."

Alistair groaned and slumped, holding his face in his hands. Morrigan, however, nodded with satisfaction. "Tis good to see someone _not _limited by Chantry upbringing. If they are still outraged upon our arrival, we can simply take what we need and go."

I snorted. "I doubt it'll be so easy as that."

Alistair looked up from his hands. "Limited by Chantry upbringing?" He asked, offended.

I held up a hand before either of them could tear into the other. "In any case, we would be in the same situation if I _had _been meek as a Chantry mouse upon meeting with the Knight-Commander and being restricted to my rooms, so let's just drop the subject."

Alistair _hmmed_, unsatisfied. "Alright, keep your secrets."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "If it's stories you want, I'm sure I can oblige. _My _childhood would make your hair turn white."

He blanched. "Er, no, thanks. I don't want to know what sick things you and your mother have done."

We all jumped as an explosion rang through the clearing. After a moment, we turned to Ellie, who had a peevish look on her face and smoke wafting from her upraised hand. I was fairly certain those were for dramatic effect, but it got the point across nicely. "We're going to Redcliffe."

A unique way of deciding things. Morrigan's unquenchable urge to look down on other people's intelligence enabled her to get speak first. "Pray tell, _why _would we do that? So we could have a rabble of superstitious peasants to fight for us instead of the Warden's old allies, led by a noble who can't see past his own importance?"

"Hey!" Alistair rounded on her quick as blinking, red in the face. "Don't say that about Eamon! He's a good man, and a better person than you'll ever be!"

"Oh? If being a useless old man in charge of fools makes him better than me, then he is welcome to it."

I stepped between them. "**ENOUGH**!" I bellowed, glaring at both of them. "As you seem to have nothing to contribute other than bickering, we're going to Redcliffe. Ellie's got the right of it." I had nothing to back that up with, other than the fact that she was likely the smartest person I'd met, and I would be damned before I let Morrigan and Alistair think that sniping at each other was a tolerable use of our time. That Tamlen and I had started off much the same way in our youth did not occur to me, though in my defense, we had been six at the time. "If you want an explanation, I suggest you put your heads together and see if you can't come to the same conclusion that we have. For now, pack up."

Alistair flushed, and Morrigan looked mutinous. Thankfully, they complied, though they shot me dirty looks every so often. _Fine by me. _Alistair had signed up to be a Grey Warden, and Morrigan would need to be far more powerful to defy Flemeth, at least directly. Both of them were stuck here on this suicidal crusade, and if they were going to be the argumentative pair, then Ellie and I got to be the productive pair that actually made decisions.

As I rolled up my hammock, I leaned over to Ellie. "So why _are _we going to Redcliffe?" I asked, whispering so Alistair couldn't hear me. Morrigan's ears were sharper, but she was much further away.

Ellie hummed thoughtfully as she pitched her tent. Flemeth had actually gifted us with them, though where she got tents so light and portable escaped me. If I didn't know any better, I would've sworn they were Elvish. "A few reasons. One, the most numerous armed force covered by the treaties would be the dwarves, and based on their declining population and proximity to the Deep Roads, they won't commit their entire force. We'll get three thousand at most. Redcliffe, while not the wealthiest, is large and more populated than most of the country, and lost none of its trained soldiers or levies at Ostagar."

I nodded, remembering our meeting with King Cailin. "I doubt he's chuffed about his nephew dying, either. Should give us something to work with."

She smiled. "Exactly. And given that reason two is getting someone with political pull on our side to gather more support from the nobles, any angle we have is fair game."

I gave her a surprised look. "I knew you were smart, but when did you get so devious?"

She shrugged self-consciously. "I've read a lot of treatises on war. Wanted to see what all the boys were so excited about. Essentially, they all boil down to 'if it's unfair, underhanded, and wholly unexpected, do it'."

I bit my cheek to keep myself from laughing. Doing so within earshot of Alistair and Morrigan in the mood they were in would be akin to throwing a match into a bowl of moonshine. "That reminds me, I need to show you a new technique for close quarters. It's in line with the whole 'unfair, underhanded' thing to the point that no Dalish would dare use it on another."

She shot me a curious look. "Really?"

I nodded. "Among the Dalish, it is known as Din'an Solasan, to bring ruin upon a prideful place."

She frowned. "Could you demonstrate?"

I hummed thoughtfully. "On you? Yes, but it wouldn't work nearly as well."

"And why is that?"

I snorted. "Because kicking someone in the daddy bag isn't as effective when they don't have one." After a moment, we both burst out laughing. Alistair and Morrigan were less than amused.

* * *

We made it to the Imperial Highway before noon. The paved stone combined with us not having to avoid darkspawn advance parties allowed us to reach Lothering in record time, with my delight at being fully mobile again setting a brutal pace for the others. Despite that, we were caught in the end, though by the possibly the friendliest living thing in the whole of Thedas, as far as we were concerned.

I heard its footsteps before anyone else. "Anyone else hear that?"

Morrigan shook her head and suggested I was hearing things. Alistair shrugged and continued on in silence. Ellie opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again as the sound became audible to human ears. "What is-"

"WHUFF!" We turned to see a mabari hound barreling down the Highway towards us, covered in enough grime and darkspawn blood that I had no doubt he was from Ostagar. I wasn't sure how to react. Wolves? Easy. Deer? Even easier. Human warhounds? No clue.

Before anyone else had ideas of their own, the damn thing barreled into Ellie, knocking her on her ass with little effort. If it weighed less than twenty stone, I would eat my boot. Thankfully, we were slow to react. By the time I had my sword half out of its scabbard, we realized that it was licking Ellie while she desperately tried to fend it off. I noticed idly that "it" was a "he".

She giggled, a sound I hadn't heard out of her. "Ack! Stop! Enough, you blasted… furry…. Aegnor!" I managed to pull him off of her, grunting with the effort. It was like trying to uproot a tree stump.

Even as she stood up, he was panting and trying to get back to her. "Ellie, could you… fenedhis… tell him to sit or something!"

Blessedly, she didn't question me. "Sit!" Immediately, his struggling ceased and he dropped his rump on the ground, squashing my foot in the process. I've never had my foot broken by a dog's ass before, but at the time it was a close thing. While I dislodged myself and tried to massage some feeling back into the extremity, Ellie dropped to her knees and hugged him. "Aw! He's so _cute!_"

Morrigan mimed gagging. Alistair, though, looked thoughtful. "It looks like he's imprinted on you. Did his owner die at Ostagar?"

Ellie nodded. "His owner died and he got tainted. I managed to find a flower from the Wilds that cured him. I had no idea what happened to him." He barked and licked her face, an easy target with her so close. "Aw, I missed you too!" She began scratching behind his ears, prompting him to close his eyes and grow very still. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?"

I frowned. "Let me get this straight. He's smart enough not only to remember you after meeting you once-"

"Twice."

"Twice, he's smart enough to find you out of everyone else fleeing Ostagar and recognizes you as his new master?"

She gave me a wide grin and hugged him. "Pretty much. I've always wanted a dog! Templars wouldn't allow it."

Morrigan sneered. "So we're going to have this mangy, flea ridden beast follow us around now?"

Alistair, the closest to being a staunch patriot, came to his rescue. "He's not mangy!" He said, mimicking Ellie's tone of voice.

I coughed pointedly. "So, what should we name him?"

Ellie stopped and thought. "I wanted to name him Dane." She admitted. The dog snorted at that.

Alistair agreed with him. "Ellie, every other Ferelden child has named their dog Dane. You might want to pick something else."

She frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

"Fenedhis lasa!" I raised an eyebrow at her. "What? It's what you say when you get mad."

I sighed. "Well, let's see if he responds to a name." I thought for a moment. "Vhenan?" He snorted again. Fair enough. He was a warhound, not a lap dog.

Alistair piped up. "Maric, maybe?" He cocked his head at that.

Ellie tried again. "Cailin?" He actually growled at that, which made me laugh. Evidently, he didn't want to be named after a fool, regardless of lineage.

Morrigan shrugged. "Dog." He ignored her.

_Back to me, then. _I thought for a moment. _What would appeal to a dog? Heroic, fierce, loyal, famous… _

There was, of course, only one name that would come to a Dalish. "Garahel?" He jumped to his feet and barked happily, wagging his tail.

Ellie grinned again and scratched him under his chin. "Garahel! Who's a good Dog? Who's a good famous Warden?" He leaned into it, something Ellie did not expect, and she was unable to keep him from flopping down on top of her. She laughed weakly, her lungs crushed somewhat by the dog that weighed twice what she did, and kept scratching his belly. His lolling tongue and relaxed pose suggested that he would not be easily moved.

Creators help us all.


	10. Chapter 10: That Which a Godslayer Fears

**Hello there, readers! My apologies for being on such a long hiatus. My computer died and I lost a good deal of my stuff, and the writers among you will know that writing something all over again when you were happy with it is about the most disheartening thing you can do. **

**Note: This chapter is half intro to Lothering, half setup for Aegnor's meeting with an old friend. The Blight will retake center stage in a chapter or two, depending on the length.**

"Wake up, gentleman! More travelers to attend to!" I didn't bother hiding my groan as half a dozen highwaymen responded. Their equipment was a step below what I'd seen at Ostagar, but a cheaply made maul hurts just as much. Their leader, the one who spoke, put on a jaunty smile as if he were nothing more than a jolly tax collector. The thought of such a creature makes me want to vomit.

"Highwaymen." Alistair said, rather unnecessarily. "Preying on those fleeing the Blight, no doubt."

Whereas Alistair had remained quiet, Morrigan did not bother to hide her words. "They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson."

The jaunty smile shifted slightly. Admirably, he only stared at Morrigan's chest for a moment. Dedicated to professionalism, this one. "Now, is that any way to greet toll collectors? A simple ten silvers and you're free to pass."

I weighed my options. On one hand, letting bandits have their way galled me. On the other, two of them had crossbows in hand, and only Alistair used shield, let alone wore armor. We could easily lose people to what would be the most inconsequential of skirmishes.

With a sigh, I pulled ten silvers from my purse, careful to keep it from jingling, and handed them over. "There."

Morrigan's expression was livid, while Alistair's and Ellie's were confused. Garahel, at least, didn't seem to mind. I walked briskly between them, adopting a look of resigned worry, as if I knew they could take everything if they wanted, and I just had to pray that paying them would be enough. Most of them had smug looks, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see them leering at Morrigan and Ellie.

That ended pretty quickly when I grabbed a pair of crossbow bolts and shoved them into the necks of their owners.

As the crossbowmen were in the back, and most eyes were on the women of our group, they didn't think to go for their weapons until I'd drawn my sword and lopped off one of their heads. Garahel was the quickest to understand the plan and had another in his jaws, with Morrigan close behind him, casting hexes with glee. Alistair, not having the room to draw his sword, grappled with one until he got the upper hand and laid him out with a solid punch. He drew his sword, now having the room, and hesitated. I ended his hesitation by flicking my blade across the bandit's throat.

Only the leader remained standing, holding a mace in quivering hands. Internally, I winced at his poor choice of weapon. He swung, and was far too slow to prevent me from smashing the flat of my blade onto his unprotected fingers. The mace dropped, and I stepped forward, my left hand closing around his throat.

It had lasted barely a quarter minute.

He struggled, hands clamped onto mine and trying to dislodge me with no result. He was taller and broader than I by a good deal, but my grip was iron. I shook him once, jarring him, and shot him a glare. "Enough of that. Believe me when I say that I'm a better option than the Mabari."

He glanced at Garahel, who was happily wagging his tail next to the bandit whose throat he'd ripped out. Wisely, he decided to not risk pissing him off. "Ah, right you are sir. So… care to let me go?" He switched from his "lovable highwayman" voice to his "harmless chap you don't want to kill in cold blood" voice. From the sound of him, it wasn't the first time he'd used it.

"Not quite yet." I said. "I've got a couple of questions, and seeing as you're the bandit who's been robbing those fleeing the darkspawn, it seems like you'd hear a fair amount." I hadn't actually planned on this, but given that we had no clue as to the state of affairs for the past week, it seemed like a half decent idea.

He gulped. "Well, now that you mention it, I might have heard a thing or two… so what'd you wanna know?" He said, nervously eyeing the corpses of his fellows.

"Anyone of note come up the Imperial Highway? Remnants of the King's Army, messengers, things of that description."

He nodded so fast that his chin smacked into my wrist, coming closer to freeing him than his hand had. "Yes sir! Teyrn Loghain's army came through a few days back, and some ragged Ash Warriors the day after. We got out of their way right quick!"

I cocked my head. "So where did those wagons come from?" I asked, jerking my head towards the stockpile they'd gathered.

"Just some farmers and whatnot fleeing north! We was planning on waiting for a couple more days, then heading north ourselves!"

I grunted. "Anyone else? Anyone news worth mentioning?"

He paled at my tone and tried to back away. "They said that the Wardens had killed good King Cailin!"

I heard Alistair's hiss of indrawn breath and Ellie's quiet gasp. _Well… that's not good. _"Who's 'they'?"

"The Teyrn's soldiers! We heard some of them talking 'bout it when they passed us by. Other than that, just farmers screaming 'bout darkspawn and Ash Warriors grumbling 'bout their dead hounds an' the like!" He saw the thoughtful look in my eyes. "If I've been of help, er, can I go? Whatever direction you's going in, I'm running the other way!"

I eyed him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I don't doubt it." Right as his face had brightened and he looked down expectantly at my hand around his throat, I grabbed his head both hands and twisted. A dull crack made Ellie and Alistair wince, though Morrigan and I stayed stoic. For me, the sound was at least little different to that of a rabbit whose neck I'd wrung.

Ellie shuddered. "You… _we_… just killed six people. Oh Maker…"

Morrigan nodded with satisfaction. "I would like to be informed of such plans in the future, Warden, but I cannot argue with the result."

I grunted, my thoughts more in line with Ellie's than Morrigan's. _Creators, is this what you felt when you killed those humans, Papae? _I felt… empty. "Grab what coin you can find, and any supplies we might find useful." I said, gesturing towards the corpses and the pile of stolen goods. Grimacing, I followed my own order, looting the leader.

Alistair whirled on me. "What? But it's stolen! You know, not ours, people might miss it?"

I sighed, pocketing the money I found without relish. "I know, but we'd be poor Grey Wardens if we starved to death from lack of coin, and we don't exactly have the time to adopt a trade. We'll leave most of the material goods behind and see if the owners are still in Lothering." I smiled gently, meeting his disapproving gaze. "If you don't want to search the bodies, search the goods with Ellie." Morrigan was already on her second thug, showing no qualms. Garahel pushed up against Ellie, whining, knowing her discomfort.

Alistair complied reluctantly, and soon we had a number of useful things, among them soap, a small hatchet, a few days of provisions, some waterskins, and gut to replace what I'd used for stitches. I could have, and probably should have, taken one of their suits of armor to wear to avoid paying for one, but I was rather repulsed by the idea, not the least because they stank even without the bloodstains. We did take their weapons, however, as they were portable and would sell easily. I claimed a somewhat rusty dagger to use if needed, though I would need a new one rather quickly nonetheless. I didn't trust it to survive more than a couple of fights without breaking off inside someone.

* * *

Aegnor stopped as Varric gestured. "What is it?"

Varric steepled his fingers, looking pensive. "The similarities between you and Hawke are getting eerie."

Aegnor frowned. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a curse."

Varric thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Neither. It just is. Neither of you like killing people. You both attack darkspawn gladly, but Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Qunari? He tried to brush it off and make jokes about it, but it wasn't hard to see. Even after he got used to living with a mask around other people, I knew."

Aegnor nodded gravely. "We deal with it in different ways, neither healthy. I don't know him that well, but I suppose I'm glad he has you for a friend after what happened to his family."

Varric's face fell. "Yeah. Wish I could do more for him. Best I could do was throw the Seeker off his trail."

"Facing down the Right Hand of the Divine, unarmed, and lying to her face for a friend? Do not discount that."

Varric sighed heavily. "I know. I know. Even so, I'm all he's got left, and here I am helping the people who wanted to either kill him or put him at the head of this crusade as a figurehead. I can't remember which."

Aegnor grimaced. "I can understand that. From what I gather, they had similar notions with regards to myself." He rubbed his jaw for a moment, despite him lacking a beard. "At least they have their Herald of Andraste. From what I've seen and heard of him, he's a better candidate than Hawke or I." He chuckles ruefully. "Probably more level headed as well."

Varric tried to hide his smirk by taking a long drink of water. He was only partially successful. "Hawke's level headed as far as Kirkwaller's go, but pretty much. Ian's better than I expected at keeping Cassandra happy."

"Heh. Fairly certain Hawke's the _only _level headed Kirkwaller."

"Hey!"

Aegnor gave him a frank look. "You have a crossbow whom you've named after your estranged, married lover that you won't let out of your sight, you chose to live in a city where the veil was thin enough that a cantrip would tear it even _after _you became obscenely wealthy despite no familial ties keeping you there, and you appear to have a paper mache boat made out of letters from the Merchant's Guild, one of the most feared bodies in Thedas when it comes to ones finances."

Varric opened his mouth, closed it, before settling for grumbling. "….."

Aegnor put a hand to his ear. "What was that?"

Varric snorted. "Alright, fine! You _may _have a point."

Aegnor grinned. "And on that happy note, I think it's time to end for the day."

"Wait, what? Why?"

Aegnor stood up and moved to the window, tilting his head to get a better look at the sun. "After Lothering is where everything happens, and we've already been going for about six hours." Indeed, the sun was nearing the horizon. He thought a moment more, before he shrugged. "And besides, I need to get my thoughts in order. Remembering events a decade past, however vivid, takes time."

Varric frowned, annoyed. "You sure we can't go a bit further?" He wheedled. "At least past Lothering. It'll get it out of the way for more exciting bits"

Aegnor shook his head, smirking. "I know you're tricks, Master Tethras, and they won't work on me. And before you ask again, try unclenching your hand." He watched a moment longer as Varric attempted, and failed, to uncurl his fingers from the quill he'd held for so long, collecting his sword and bag as he did so.

"You're a bastard, you know that Wildfire?" Chuckling, he made his way out the door and into the snowy little town that housed the Inquisition.

Haven was home to another gathering of the devout. Whether they were insane to a lesser or greater degree had yet to be seen, particularly with Mages and Templars living in such close proximity. "They haven't started torturing innocent scholars yet, so that's something." He murmured under his breath. Everywhere he walked, from the store to the Chantry, held a memory for him, often of the same façade covered in blood that was not his.

He frowned. _Creators, I need to reminisce about something else._

He sold a number of things he'd picked up to the quartermaster. He didn't need the money, but it was a habit that he doubted would ever subside. Killing people and selling their valuables had proven far too instrumental to his success for him to start acting like he was above it. It was just a matter of finding the right people, as these days most bandits knew him on sight. It had taken a decade, but it had finally made it down the criminal grapevine that attacking him was an utterly foolish endeavor.

Surprisingly, the Requisitions Officer was a devout supporter of Loghain, something that made his original reason for visiting somewhat difficult to get across. His role in removing Loghain from the regency did not endear himself to her, forcing him to withstand a protracted, one-sided shouting match before he could ask her if there were any requisitions that needed filling. She shot him a venom filled glare before grudgingly allowing him to write down the more important ones and told him, on no uncertain terms, that he was the reason things had gone to shit. She wasn't entirely wrong, though he assumed she was referring to Loghain more than anything else.

Predictably, the former Templars among the Inquisition's ranks were just as fond of him as the Requisition's Officer. He could feel the resentment coming off of them in waves, fuelled by their hatred of what he'd done to their former comrades and their belief that someone like him was an unholy abomination on principle and should be put down. Most simply did their best to ignore him, which suited him just fine. More than one, however, looked tempted to smite him, to see if they could do the world a favor by ridding it of him. Those he fixed with an icy stare, daring them to try.

None did.

Ironically, it was mage that gave voice to their discontent. "Hello again, Warden. I'm pleased to see you're being given a welcome fitting for your station." She drawled, satisfaction dripping from her voice in a way that set his teeth on edge. "I trust it's to your liking."

He forced down his irritation and put on a bright smile, knowing it would annoy her more. "Vivienne." He said, noting the slight twitch in her brow at him ignoring her title. To most humans, it was imperceptible, but elvish eyes were something else entirely. _Two can play at this game. _"I imagine you enjoyed it as much as I am."

"Oh, I continue to enjoy it, dear."

He smiled sweetly. "I wasn't referring to _my _treatment, Vivienne. I was referring to yours."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" She said, her voice somewhat cooler than before.

He nodded, the smile never shifting. "Indeed. A mage, risen to a position of power among the nobles. Quite the accomplishment, and you didn't even have to end the Blight to do it."

She laughed. "I won other battles, dear. I daresay the Imperial Court is more dangerous than the Ferelden Landsmeet."

He shook his head. "It's a bigger den of vipers, I will concede, but they lack teeth. If they had any, they would have driven you out long ago."

She frowned for the first time. "Don't be ridiculous."

It was his turn to laugh. "Ridiculous? The Templars of Val Royeaux, the most devout, numerous, and well-equipped in Thedas, saw your rise to power as a threat. Even as you championed their cause as the world began to reject them, they saw you as little more than an expendable tool, one that must fall along with the other mages."

"I hardly-"

He pressed on. "The nobles saw your presence as an insult to their lineage, which stretches back thousands of years, certainly longer than some _Mage _from Ostwick. And your fellow mages… well, those that aren't a member of your little club resented you. Creators, they _still _resent you. All that power you accumulated because the Orlesian Court hadn't the balls to put you in your place, and what did you do for them?" His smile became predatory. "You did _nothing._"

He held his expression for a second, then shrugged. "Given all of that, I can imagine that you were as welcome as I am among even former Templars."

Her face fixed itself into a mask of cold indifference. "Dear, you may wish to stop inventing stories before you lose all credibility. What credibility you have left, at least."

"Have I touched a nerve? My apologies, if that's the case."

She sniffed. "If you wish to say something, I suggest you say it."

He bit back a laugh. "You first."

She huffed. "Very well. You're an ill-bred, ill-mannered vagabond with an insignificant title that is allowed among the Inquisition for reasons that appear to be nonexistent. You're only action so far is dealing with an insignificant number of bandits in the Hinterlands, something we could have easily accomplished, and our chances of garnering the aid of the Templar Order with the Breach are close to none so long as you are affiliated with us."

He took a moment to consider, a thoughtful look on his face. "You left out the fact that, because of me, the Templar Order is unlikely to have the numbers to aid us." He hummed distractedly, his fingers drumming on the hilt of the dagger on his hip, before refocusing his attention. "As for you, you insulted my friend, a woman who accomplished more than you ever have or will, because didn't align with your views regarding the Circles. A viewpoint, I might add, containing so much hypocrisy on your part that I'm surprised it doesn't tear you in half, but that's neither here nor there."

"And you say the Imperial Court lacks teeth? That wouldn't have flustered an apprentice, my dear Warden."

He snorted. "Those weren't the teeth I was referring to." In the blink of an eye, he crossed the distance between them, seeming all the faster for the lack of urgency in the motion. He met her eyes, now wide with surprise, and caught her wrist as she moved to ready her staff. His face was decidedly pleasant, no longer displaying any of the false courtesy he had before. "Insults to my person, I can handle. But insult Ellie again, in or out of earshot, and you will regret it." He stepped away just as quickly and strode off, brushing past her. "And be careful with whom you decide to indulge your pride. You never know which ones will decide to cut through the bullshit to save themselves the headache."

Once out of range, he leaned against a building and let his head thud against the wall. _Nice going, Aegnor. You're here to make friends, remember? _He sighed, more irritated than he should have been. _I need to clear my head. _It wasn't hard to guess who'd be the most willing to accommodate what he had in mind.

* * *

_Thwack!_

Cassandra focused on the training dummy in front of her, trying to work out the frustration accumulated over the past few weeks. The recent arrival had pushed her close to the breaking point.

_Thwack!_

Despite the satisfying impact of blunted steel on wood, the straw having given way all too quickly, all she felt was more infuriated. _Damn that Warden! _She pictured his smirking face.

_Thwack!_

_To the void with him! _She ground her teeth. Why were they accepting his help? Leliana had vouched for him, but the two had barely spoken since he'd arrived, preferring to spend his time holed up with Varric and wasting her time.

_Thwack!_

She snorted, again failing to clear her head. _We needed the Champion, not someone too blinded by their hatred and vanity that they slaughter the righteous and demand their old war stories be written down before they lift a finger!_

_Thwack!_

He was arrogant.

_Thwack!_

Unstable.

_Thwack._

Unreliable.

_Thwack!_

And he was all they had.

_Thwack!_

With a cry, she smashed the training sword down on the wooden post, snapping it off a third of the way up from the ground. She stood, breathing hard more from anger than exertion, before grunting in annoyance and striding over to the next training dummy.

A sudden tap on her shoulder brought her whirling around, sword held high. The revealed culprit did not make her want to stop with her strike. "Creators, easy! I just wanted to ask if you wanted to spar." The Warden had left behind his cocky grin, which was the only thing that gave her pause.

Reluctantly, she lowered the sword. "What manner of sparring?"

His shoulders slumped slightly with relief. "Blunted weapons, full armor, best of five bouts."

"How many hits?"

"Five."

She was tempted to refuse, but her curiousity regarding his fighting ability and eagerness to beat him about the head and shoulders won out. "I will spar with you on one condition."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

She hefted her training sword over her should and moved over to where her shield lay. "It will be the best of ten bouts."

* * *

Varric lounged comfortably in the tavern. It was somewhat irritating to have Wildfire stop when he did, but for the sake of his fans he was grateful. He had garnered a decent following at Haven, and many only came to drink because of his stories.

Grinning, he took a swig of indifferent ale he hadn't paid for and launched into a yarn. _Just like back home. _"So no shit, there I was, surrounded by crazy Carta dwarves, trying to keep them from putting a blade in my gut when Hawke shouts 'I have a plan!' and runs off. Unfortunately for my gut, the plan wasn't running away and letting crazy dwarves lie."

"Good thing it wasn't! He would've left you behind too!" Sera cackled from across the tavern, now in between attempts to seduce the barmaid. An Inquisition soldier ran in and started speaking with a table of his fellows in the far corner, using animated gestures and appearing excited.

Ignoring him, Varric spread his hands and shrugged. "Okay, fair point. In any case, Blondie was barely keeping Aveline and I on our feet when suddenly, we hear a bunch of clicks and Hawke yells 'get down!'. We…" He trailed off as he saw the table of soldiers scramble to get out of their chairs and bolt for the door, almost literally falling over themselves. Several of the patrons ventured out with them, curious to see what the commotion was about.

_I hope Wildfire hasn't broken something. _He set down his tankard with an audible clunk and sauntered towards the door, much to the disappointment of his remaining listeners. "I'll finish later, alright? I just need to take a step outside and see what's happening."

He pulled on his leather coat against the chill and started to run after the crowd as soon as he was sure no one was looking at him. One of the downsides of having short legs was having to run twice as hard to keep up, which made one look rather undignified.

He arrived, out of breath, to find a crowd gathered around one of the sparring rings. "Andraste's Ass!" He swore under his breath. Cassandra was easily visible above the crowd, and he could see a hint of flame red hair peeking out past the heads of onlookers. _I think this'll be worth seeing. _He ventured back into Haven in search of a higher vantage point. With any luck, he'd find one before they started.

* * *

Cassandra took the time to observe her opponent before the first bout started. Cullen, after trying for more than ten minutes to get his recruits back to their training, had finally relented and was personally judging the match, on the condition that he would personally beat any recruit that tried to skive off of drills into the dirt.

At first glance, it was hard to see any advantage. He was smaller than her by a good bit, and even his lanky build wouldn't close the difference in their respective reach, disadvantaging him both in a close range pushing match and a longer range exchange of blows. His shield wasn't strapped to his arm, reducing his comparative leverage even further. Even his weapon seemed to work against him, as he was apparently going to try wielding a weighted, two handed training sword with just one hand.

Cassandra knew that most of the smart bets that looked past his legendary status would be against him, and she was tempted to agree. Her gut, however, told her otherwise. _He wouldn't fight like this if he was expecting to make a fool out of himself. _She narrowed her eyes. _What are you playing at, Warden?_

Varric whistled down at easily the most visible member of the crowd. "Tiny! Ten royals says Cassandra wins this!"

The massive Qunari scratched his chin, observing the two of them. "That's a rich bet."

Varric smiled. "I'm good for it."

After a moment's hesitation, the Iron Bull nodded. "I'm in. There's no way the guy who took down an Archdemon is losing this one!"

Varric couldn't help but agree. Ten royals, however, was a small price to pay in keeping Cassandra from chewing him out again. _I don't even want to know how mad she'd be if I bet against her._

Cassandra hefted her own sensible longsword and shield and, upon hearing Cullen's shout, the Hero of Orlais rushed out to meet the Hero of Ferelden.

She eschewed the usual probing of her opponent's defenses and charged. _He may be strong, but even he cannot ignore this! _She crashed into his shield, but instead of the resistance she had been expecting, the shield gave way and shoved her to her right. Grunting with frustration, she pivoted and struck, knowing that his shield was in no position to block. Again, she felt no impact. _What in the name of Andraste- _

She reeled backwards as a massive force, easily the equal of some dragons she had faced, slammed into her shield, splintering the wood. A light staccato ringing permeated the air afterwards, followed by Cullen's declaration. "The first bout goes to the Hero of Ferelden, with five hits to none!"

Cassandra reset her stance for the next bout and faced Aegnor again, gritting her teeth. _I will not shame the Seekers by being beaten so easily!_

* * *

Varric frowned as the first bout ended. _That was… something. _Instead of meeting the Seeker head on, Aegnor had allowed his shield to pivot and retreated, avoiding a good deal of the momentum. The longer reach of his greatsword was all he needed after that to wind up a decent swing and use the opening to rack up the hits. _She probably doesn't know exactly what he just did. Her shield was blocking too much of her vision. _

And yet, there was something… _off. _

It was more apparent in the second bout, which started far slower. Cassandra brought all of her skills to bear and probed his defenses, all the while getting used to the reach of his greatsword and the power of his swings. Strikes like the one that had stunned her now only rocked her slightly as she used her footwork and shieldwork to avoid the worst of it, and her lighter longsword had allowed her to garner two hits in quick succession. Aegnor's moves were technically flawless, but they were a bit stiff and rusty, as if they hadn't seen use recently.

Varric, realizing his discontent, chuckled ruefully. Cassandra was fighting with heart and soul and getting the best of him. Wildfire was just working some kinks loose. _Fair enough. It IS the practice yard, after all. _He wondered how many others in the crowd knew enough to see what was happening.

* * *

Cassandra panted, satisfied despite being out of breath. She'd won the last two bouts handily once she'd gotten used to the unholy reach and power of his greatsword, even wielded one-handed. At the end of the third bout, however, she realized her mistake. Had there been only five bouts, she would've been fine. But the sheer physicality needed to get the best of him meant that she was tiring fast with the bouts as protracted as they were. It was no easy thing to score five hits.

Aegnor, by contrast, didn't even look winded. _What IS he? _The Warden's strength was legendary, but swinging that monstrous hunk of lead and steel that deftly without tiring defied reason. Not even the Avvar or the Qunari could accomplish such a feat.

She shook her head, breaking herself out of her reverie. _Regardless, I will see this through. _Taking a deep breath, she eased towards him as the fourth bout started. Sidestepping his first strike, she darted in and scored a hit on his vambrace, though she nearly lost her head to his return swing. A quick duck saved her and she skittered away, frustrated that she couldn't fight him head on.

The next minute went by with the two of them shifting around the ring, feinting, attacking, parrying, and retreating. Unfortunately, Aegnor's moves were growing sharper and smoother, and the next hit went to him. She countered, and he replied in kind. After that, all bets were off, and Aegnor rushed in after her. The exchange of blows was long and difficult, and the intensity of his swings increased to the point that she could only dodge them, not trusting her trembling arms to hold out. Then, it was blessedly over. Five hits to her, and four hits to Aegnor. She backed away breathing hard, her arms aching. _I win. _There was little joy in the thought, however.

It was almost a relief when she was knocked unconscious.

* * *

Cassandra woke up looking at the sky, which had thankfully changed little. _I haven't been out long. _The cot beneath her back said that someone had been thoughtful enough to not leave her on the ground. Groaning, she attempted to sit up, only for a massive hand to push her back down. "Easy, Seeker. You took one hell of a hit."

She allowed herself to drop, much to the relief of her swimming head. "What... What happened?"

The Iron Bull shrugged. "Not much to it, really. He caught you clean with the edge of his shield."

She grit her teeth and tried to sit up, this time with a bit more success. "Damn him. He hadn't used any before that!"

The Iron Bull laughed easily. "What's the matter, Seeker? Pissed that you lost?"

"As if you would do any better!" She shot back at him.

He nodded. "You're right. I didn't."

She frowned. "What?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "He wanted to leave it at that, but I figured hey, why not see how tough he is for myself?"

She raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"He beat the shit out of me. I guess he figured I could take it better than most. Could barely walk straight after one round."

With a grunt, she finally managed to bring herself upright, and for the first time noticed that the cot next to her was occupied. "Why is Ser Blackwall in the infirmary?"

The Iron Bull winced. "He volunteered to carry on for you before I could, all honorable and shit. I was a bit pissed, but after fighting him I'm sure as shit happy he left only one round for me."

* * *

Aegnor breathed out a sigh of satisfaction as he left the training grounds, enjoying the adrenaline rush before it faded. _That felt good. _He wasn't pleased with the fact that he'd made mincemeat of the Inquisition's best fighters, but they'd succeeded in giving him a good workout. He hadn't practiced sword and shield fighting since his last shield had been destroyed, and he felt much better now that he'd gotten used to the motions again.

_And it serves Blackwall right, at least. _He still wasn't sure what to make of him. He seemed decent, and was a skilled warrior besides, but he was no more a Grey Warden than Aegnor was a city elf. Knocking him senseless seemed like a fair compromise for the time being. _And given what he seems to think the Order is like, I doubt he's ever MET an actual Warden before myself. _

When he saw where his legs had taken him, those thoughts retreated to the back of his mind, replaced by fear.

In many ways, this was a large part of why he'd come here. He knew this moment was coming, yet that made it no easier.

He knocked on the door.

When it opened, he almost didn't recognize her. What had happened to the young girl, full of life and song? The austere garb of the Chantry was all she wore, bereft of any brighter touches she once would have had. No tassles, no glint of gold or velvet against the cold, only mail, leather, and cloth, no doubt concealing more daggers than a back-alley gang. Even the vivid red of her hair seemed dimmer, though all of that paled in comparison to the look of shock quickly replaced by cold fury when she saw him.

He knew not how long they stood there staring at each other, with him not daring to speak and her too furious to say a word. Finally, with a flick of her fingers, she stormed back into the cabin she had claimed as hers, grudgingly inviting him in.

He inclined his head and wordlessly made his way over to one of the chairs by the fire. Sitting down took care, as his armor allowed few mistakes, which gave him a brief respite from the animosity radiating from his old friend. It returned all too soon, leaving him to gaze into the fire and ponder what he should say.

His elvish hearing picked up the unique sound of wine being uncorked, and before long a glass of deep red wine was placed on the armrest of the chair next to his. There was none for him. Leliana sat and took a long drink, and when she was done, she spoke the words he had been fearing the most. "Where is Ellie, Warden?"

He slumped, defeated. _She can't even use my name._

**Thank you for reading! If you liked it, hated it, or anything in between, leave a review and I'll make sure to take it into account for the next chapter. Thanks to RhydianStorm and BlunderBore for reviewing!**


	11. Chapter 11: To Live and Die Alone

**A shorter chapter this time around, and one that probably took me the most rewrites. Next chapter will have the Blight as it's focus (not to mention Varric feeling awkward as hell sitting between Aegnor and Leliana).**

Leliana's blue eyes bored into him, hard and accusing. She was one of the few who could do this to him, make him feel as if every thought running through his head was hers to know and judge just by looking at him. It used to be playful, a way of making him uncomfortable for her amusement. In two years, however, she had made it into a weapon. He resisted the urge to clear his throat.

_No use delaying the inevitable. _He sighed, and prepared to say the first lie of many. "I… I don't know."

Leliana's eyes narrowed. "You don't know?" She spoke softly, which made the venom in her words all the more terrifying.

He shook his head slowly. "I don't. I'm sorry."

"You don't know." She snarled. "Two years ago, the two of you _vanished. _No one knew where you were, not even me! Ellie didn't even say goodbye! And while you're gone, the Kirkwall Chantry, the Spire, and the Temple of Sacred Ashes are all _destroyed. _A war began that threatens to tear apart Thedas, the Grey Wardens either refuse to help or go into hiding, and the Champion is nowhere to be found! I despaired of ever finding hope."

Aegnor hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"_Sorry?" _She sounded as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. A laugh tore itself from her lips, high and cold and manic, as terrifying a sound as ever he'd heard. "When we heard of the White Spire's destruction and the slaughter of the Templar Order, I investigated, as was my duty. And when I learned that you were the cause of both, when I learned that you were working _against _everything I hold dear, against any chance of peace, I still wanted to see you. You deserved a chance to explain yourself, a chance to set things right. You were being framed, set up, you had tried to stop the one who did it and was confused for the culprit, something! I prayed that you would come out of hiding one day and tell me it was so, and I kept my findings a secret. They suspect it was you, given what you've done since, but they do not know for sure."

"Leliana-"

"Yet when you arrive, you avoid me, speak with everyone _except _me, and demand some vanity story be made before you aid us! You don't give any reason for what you have done, you can't even tell me where my _wife_ is, and all you have to say is SORRY?!" She made a noise of disgust. "Why did you even come here, Warden? There is no atonement you could make."

Aegnor's anger flared, pride overcoming his shame. "What happened to you, Leliana?" He demanded. "You know me! Do you think that I would come so far just to give into _vanity_?"

"What happened is that I _grew up,_ Warden." She drained her glass and set it down sharply, nearly breaking it. "I learned to look at what was and what wasn't, and from where I sit your precious ego has finally replaced your head!"

"Fenedhis, Leliana! Will you just let me explain?"

A dagger was in her hands faster than he could blink. She leveled it at him for a long moment, before slowly lowering it and slumping in her chair "Leave, Warden. If you had something worth saying, you would have said it already."

"I-"

She cut him off. "Was it you?" She demanded. "Was there a setup, a misunderstanding, a trick, something my agents missed? Did you destroy the White Spire?" He deflated slightly, and could not meet her gaze. "Then _leave."  
_

For a moment, he was tempted to do just that. Turn around and leave, leave his friend to her grief and her fury and disappear in the night. Even without him, they might be able to seal the Breach, and the world would remain separate from the Fade.

_You need them. And they need you._

Instead, he reached into his pack and brought out an old journal. It was tattered and dog eared, not to mention stained with what looked to be blood, though the pages inside were unnaturally white and clean. Several of the pages were too large or too small for the binding, and most seemed to have been salvaged from a source entirely different from the others. He held it reverently, as if it were made of gold. "I don't have something to say, Leliana, but I do have something for you." He handed it to her.

Reluctantly, she took it, her eyes widening when she realized what she was holding. "Ellie's journal?" She whispered. Her hands shook.

Aegnor nodded slowly, his face somber. "I told Varric that I last saw Ellie two years ago, and that she was making her way towards Kirkwall. But I didn't tell him everything. If anyone has a right to hear it first, it's you."

"Then why-"

"Why did I wait?" He shook his head sadly. "Because I was scared. Still am, to tell the truth."

Leliana's face softened slightly, before hardening again. "Then tell me. _Everything. _And if I find out that you lied to me…"

"I don't lie to old friends. I have few enough as it is." _I am sorry._

"Start talking and prove it."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. _This is one truth you will be happier not knowing, however you despise me for it being hidden._ "As you know, Anders destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry less than three years ago. What, in your view, is the most destructive result of that act?"

Leliana sneered. "Are we playing a game of riddles now? I have neither the time nor patience for such."

Aegnor sighed. "How you've changed." He murmured. "Just trust me, as you once did."

She frowned and furrowed her brow. "Fine. The Mage-Templar War."

Somewhat disappointed by the brusque answer, Aegnor recovered smoothly. "The obvious choice, with good reason. It's not as bad as a Blight, thankfully, but not by much."

Leliana gave a long suffering sigh. "And?"

"_And _it pales in comparison to what Ellie and I were determined to stop."

"What?"

Aegnor steepled his fingers. "The nature of the explosion used to destroy the Chantry along with the countless violent deaths, the sheer number of demons summoned, and the Veil being thinner than the line between bravery and stupidity has rendered the city, not to mention the surrounding countryside, rather… _volatile."_

Leliana drummed her fingers distractedly, a look of discontent flashing across her face. "It's true that things haven't been pleasant in Kirkwall, but last I heard reconstruction was going well."

Aegnor grunted. "The scabbing over of a poisoned wound. All it does is hide the damage even as it spreads."

"What, then, is the poison?"

"I don't know."

Leliana sneered. "Then how do you know there is a poison?"

Aegnor tapped Ellie's journal. "It's all in there, if a bit piecemeal. Old records of slaves going missing, more than twice the number of demonic possessions and incidents of blood magic every year than Starkhaven or Cumberland. Whatever the Tevinter's did to that city before they were driven out, it hasn't abated, and the amount of blood shed during the Circle's Annulment had the potential to bring forth demons as powerful as Gaxkang without them even needing a host."

Leliana scoffed. "Ellie faced down the Architect and _won. _How in the Maker's name do you expect me to believe that she couldn't handle what the Annulment unleashed?"

Aegnor's shoulders slumped, and suddenly the elf, giant in his bearing and his presence, became very small. "Because if everything was fine, Ellie would've come back to you. To us." That statement, at least, came easily. Even as Aegnor spoke the truth, Leliana heard and believed a lie.

Leliana spun and faced Aegnor, rage plain on her face. "So you didn't go after her? Why? Why didn't you tell me?! I would've… I would've done something at least, you stupid, infuriating HEATHEN! She was your friend, and you didn't try to help her?!"

Aegnor was on his feet in an instant. _This lie I tell must be perfect. _He prayed that he had not failed. _If I've come this far only to falter, may your Maker have mercy Ellie._ "I didn't have a choice!" He spat. "I was stuck cleaning up your Chantry's mess!"

Leliana sneered. "Oh yes, killing Templars and fomenting war has been such a boon for us all! You could have at least left me a note saying where she was!"

"The Templars I killed were zealous dogs that knew nothing save torture, rape, and murder!" Aegnor roared. His jaw clenched, until he feared his teeth might break. "And that was before the Red Lyrium corrupted their minds!"

"What in the Maker's name are you talking about?"

Aegnor reached into his pack, pulled out a small pouch, and opened it, revealing an ominous red glow. "I pulled that off a Knight Divine in Val Royeaux." He said coldly. "Enough for a month or two, if he was careful, not that it'd matter. More than half of the Templars I've killed have had similar stashes."

Leliana jerked away from the toxic pouch, a stunned look on her face. "How by the Grace of Andraste are you able to carry that and keep your mind?"

He shrugged and resealed the pouch, tucking it back into his pack. "The pouch is heavily lead lined, which not even lyrium can bypass. Besides, I've had more than enough practice keeping unwanted influences out of my head. So long as I don't quaff it like the Templars have, I'll be fine."

"You expect me to believe that the Templars have _ignored _what occurred at Kirkwall?"

Aegnor scoffed. "Ignored? Leli, they don't _know _what happened at Kirkwall! The Knight-Commander, First Enchanter, and Grand Cleric are all dead, and the Templars that _were _there all defected with Cullen to join Cassandra! All they know is that to break away from the Chantry, they needed Lyrium, and some enterprising smugglers were desperate and greedy enough to start selling some from the new veins they discovered."

Leliana frowned. "That's… convenient."

Aegnor grinned sardonically. "Isn't it, though?" _Now connect the dots I've laid out for you._

Leliana looked stunned. "So if you hadn't killed them, they would've lost their minds-"

"And tens of thousands of well-equipped, highly-trained, lyrium addled zealots would have been unleashed on the world, likely causing more damage than any Blight." He finished for her. "For two years, I had no time."

She stood, quivering with rage. "Those fools." She hissed, fists clenched. "All my life I've defended the Chantry, the Templars… and for what?" She made a noise of disgust, before calming herself with several deep breaths. "I will check with my agents. If you are telling the truth, there will be a reckoning."

Aegnor smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Leli."

She rounded on him. "The Chantry will still curse your name, no matter the reasons behind what you've done." She spat. "Thousands of the faithful were killed at the White Spire alone, and thousands more died because of you. Mothers, Sisters, Brothers- even children!"

Aegnor's smile remained. "I know." He said softly.

"When this is over, and a new Divine is elected, no nation in Thedas will be safe for you."

"I know."

"They will find you."

"I know."

"They will catch you."

"I know."

"And they will burn you."

The smallest crack in his smile. "I know."

She glared at him for what seemed like hours, searching for something, anything to latch onto: regret, anger, fear, pride.

She found only the acceptance of a man who knows he will soon be dead.

Slowly, she sank back into her seat, a look of utter exhaustion crossing her downturned face. Her red hair, once lustrous, hung about her face. "I will continue to vouch for you. I will keep your guilt a secret. You will have what you need from the Inquisition, and when the Breach is closed we will aid you in investigating Kirkwall. Once that is done, you are on your own. The truth will be known."

Aegnor inclined his head. "Thank you." He turned and made to leave, deftly retrieving Ellie's journal as he did so. As he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder. "Would you join me tomorrow, with Varric? You knew Ellie better than anyone. I want to… to make sure she's remembered as she was. As she should be."

For a moment, he was afraid that she wouldn't answer. Then: "I will. Now leave." He left.

* * *

Inside the cabin, Leliana buried her head in her hands and let the tears come in earnest. "Ellie." She whispered. "Why couldn't you stop him? Why couldn't you come back to me?" A sob wracked her before she could stop it. Two years of fear, anger, sorrow, grief, and loss pressed down on her shoulders, and for the first time she let it wash over her.

After a moment, she grasped the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass, her hands unsteady. Without warning, she screamed and hurled the bottle into fireplace. The flames roared into the cabin, overwhelming the lingering mountain chill and threatening to burn it to the ground. She stood in the midst of it, miraculously unburned, and felt the dried salt on her cheeks grow wet again.

She was alone.

* * *

Aegnor hung his pack on the back of his cabin door and groaned, rolling his shoulders. Even as strong as he was, it felt good to be rid of the extra weight. Windows closed, he removed his armor as well, though he preferred to wear it. Paranoia, long experience, and the relative comfort of Wade's armor made it tempting to keep it on. It hung loosely on the armor stand he'd stolen from the armory.

Underneath, he wore garb in Dalish colors of green and brown, though the origin of the style was indiscernible even to the trained eye. The simple truth of it was that he'd had them tailored based on what he found comfortable, and had grudgingly allowed the tailor to make them look presentable for social situations. He set Ellie's journal on the desk and sat down, pulling out a quill and parchment from the drawer. A flick of his fingers lit the candle, along with the fireplace behind him.

He tried to force himself to work before he sighed and let the quill drop. _I just lied to my friend. _The truth of it hit him hard. _And, if I'm honest, I did a poor job. _Hopefully, Leliana had accepted what he'd said as truth. If she stopped to think, she'd realize that there was no earthly reason to not contact her, nor was there a good reason for him to drop off the map. The Aegnor she knew, the Aegnor he still was, would've announced Templar corruption from the rooftops and leveraged every favor he had to keep them from killing innocent people.

Memories bubbled to the surface of his thoughts, flashes of gore and pain. He grit his teeth and gripped the arm of his chair until he feared it might break. _Caer Gaol. _Four-hundred and twenty-eight Templars had been stationed there. It had been a fortress, where the Templars had moved the prisoners of Aeonar after the war had started. Bereft of Chantry oversight, the abuses of the Templars had worsened horribly. The prisoners became toys, the Mages experiments in how far they could be pushed before possession, suicide, malnutrition, or simple loss of will to live took them.

After months of searching, he had found it. And when he left, there was no longer a castle to find. _Four-hundred and twenty-eight Templars dead, and still they won. _A hollow feeling bloomed in his gut. His clan, his Wardens, his friends, his _best _friend, all of them were beyond his reach. If things went as planned, it would stay that way. The wrath of the Chantry was something he'd made light of for years. He'd slain more Templars than anyone alive, and his deeds had shielded him from them before the Mage-Templar War. And now it had rendered his life empty. He would not risk them for his sake. For the first time in nearly two years, he felt tears slide down his face.

He was alone. And he would die alone.

* * *

**Thanks to BlunderBore, RhydianStorm, and Judy for reviewing! If you liked it, thought it could use work, or whatever have you, leave a review!**

**I'll freely admit that I spent an embarrassing amount of time on Google Translate trying to come up with a good name for a castle. A bit on the nose, but it sounds foreboding when you say it, so I went with it.**


	12. Update(GAME SPOILERS)

(WARNING: SPOILERS!)...(well, kind of)

Just a quick update for everyone wondering where the hell I've gone. I have the next chapter just about ready, and after all of the new party member introductions things should speed up as we get into the meat of the story. The big problem, however, is that Bioware has apparently acquired a superhuman work ethic when it comes to their DLC.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem. Things like Golems of Amgarrak and Darkspawn Chronicles that don't dramatically impact the lore don't trip me up. In the last two DLCs, however, we've been introduced to an Avvar method for reversing spirit possession, Razikale being female, spirits that are also gods, Titans with lyrium for blood that may or not be the progenitors of the Dwarven race that, despite the entire premise of lyrium being that it's an anathema to magic in large amounts, are disturbed by the Breach, a wholly magical event. I don't doubt that there are dozens of other important bits that I'm missing. I can't actually play them, as I'm working with the 360 version, so Youtube and the wiki are my only sources of information.

And now we have a third one, Trespasser, that looks like it's going to be the most impactful to the lore out of all of them, regarding Elves, Eluvians, Solas, the Qunari, and the endgame of Inquisition as a whole. I've been trying to stay as close to the lore as I can, as well as incorporate stuff from Inquisition that sounds like it'd be interesting, but this is a bit ridiculous. So I'm leaving it to you guys. Wait until Trespasser comes out and work with it? Or screw that noise, and charge ahead at full speed and make it up as I go?

Cheers everyone, and may those still mired in academia as I am do well in their endeavors!


	13. Chapter 12: The Sister and The Sten

**For those of you wondering how the mechanics work, I'm sticking to the DA:O/DA2 end of things for the most part, which gives me more toys to play with. So Entropy, Creation, and the other schools are still alive and well. A lot of the specifics will be canon, and a few will be me pulling things out of my ass that sound right. I've got my own idea of how the Fade works, so we'll see how that goes.**

**Now that that's settled, back to the Blight!**

**Edit: Now that Trespasser has come out and I've well and truly spoiled myself from ever playing it, I have two things to say. First, bravo Bioware for answering so many of the questions that have piled up over the course of the series. Second, in the absence of any responses to my update, and due to the fact that many of the reveals have involved the elves and their history, I'm going to stick to my own ideas and pre-existing theories.**

Varric didn't expect much out of life. No matter how idealistic he liked to make his stories, the world didn't work the same way, be it because of the Maker's shit sense of humor or the surfacers not venerating the Stone. He couldn't decide which he liked to blame. In any case, so long as he had a warm fire, a passable drink, and a stage to ply his craft, he could content himself with his lot until he met up with some old friends.

What he _didn't _need was being stuck between, in his mind, the two scariest people in Thedas. "So… anyone going to tell me why Leliana is here?" He immediately blanched as Leliana fixed him with a chilly look.

After a moment, she cocked her head. "Why? Am I not welcome?" She asked. Her voice was perfectly level and polite, and did absolutely nothing to mask the implied threat.

"Er…" He looked to Aegnor for support. "Wildfire? You okay with her listening in?"

Aegnor started and looked up from the sheet of paper he'd been reading. He'd claimed that he needed to 'prime the pump' as it were, though Varric suspected it was also an excuse to make sure Varric hadn't added any personal comments or embellishments. Thankfully, he hadn't. "Hm? Oh, yes. I invited her, actually."

Varric gave an irritated huff. "You know, you could've let me know _before _I got here. I thought I was next on the list of 'people who know too much' and was going to be silenced in person!"

Aegnor waved dismissively. "Honestly, Varric, she isn't _that _scary."

Leliana glared daggers at him. "You've missed a lot in the past two years, Warden."

Aegnor sighed. "We all have. I'll fill in my blanks eventually, but first we need to go back to where it all began. If you'd be so kind, Leliana?"

Varric frowned. "Wait, what?"

Aegnor smiled faintly. "I didn't just invite her here to listen, Varric. She was there too. It seems only right that she help with the telling." He clapped his hands together and shook himself out of his reverie, and when he reopened his eyes there was fire behind them. "After we arrived, we helped a number of people, including a greedy merchant, an orphaned child, and an elven family who'd been robbed."

Varric raised an eyebrow. "You helped a greedy merchant?"

Aegnor's eyes twinkled. "In a sense, but more on that later. Most important was that after we got our bearings, we split up. Morrigan and I went to hunt down the beasts and bandits plaguing the town. Thankfully, there was a reward, otherwise I'd have been on my own. I sent Ellie, Alistair, and Garahel to get what supplies and information they could from the local tavern."

"You seemed happy to do the talking before. Why the change?"

Aegnor shrugged. "Honestly? I was an armed Dalish elf, and even then I knew that flaunting that in a crowded tavern would cause trouble. A strapping young soldier, his little sister, and her hound seemed like a more plausible, and innocent, front to put up."

Leliana allowed herself a small smile. "Indeed. A shame all that planning didn't help in the end."

That piqued Varric's curiosity. "What happened?"

Aegnor_ hmmed _thoughtfully. "What indeed?" He turned to Leliana. "You were the only one there, so would you care to tell us?"

Leliana shook her head at his performance. She was still furious with him, but she was somewhat thankful as well. At least now, after so many years of hardship, she could do something she enjoyed: tell stories. And this one had more than a few fond memories.

* * *

**Leliana**

I sat on a stool in the Lothering tavern, a crowd gathered around me. It was far from pleasant. The tavern was packed with desperate souls, many of whom slept on the floor. The stink of their bodies, mixed with the scent of wet dog and trash, assaulted my nose. Alcohol, one of the few solaces of those given in to despair, flowed freely, though all that was left was hillwine: whatever kegs Old Barlin had squirreled away before Ostagar had gone dry. The smell of it was soaked into the floorboards, spilled by those jostling for a seat or by those who were too drunk to see straight.

I didn't care.

I have no doubt that such a place would repulse me if I was to walk into there today, but I was used to the smell of the tavern, of Ferelden. I was used to wearing homespun and having ragged, dagger-cut hair. I was used to my life in Lothering, even during the Blight, because it offered me peace, quiet, and when I grew restless, I had an outlet. I could sing.

"Once we were  
In our peace  
With our lives assured.

Once we were  
Not afraid of the dark.

Once we sat in our kingdom  
With hope and pride.

Once we ran through  
The fields with great strides.

We held the Fade  
And the demon's flight  
So far from our children  
And from our lives.

We held together  
The fragile sky  
To keep our way of life.

Once we raised  
Up our chalice  
In victory.

Once we sat  
In the light of our dreams.

Once we were  
In our homeland  
With strength and might.

Once we were  
Not afraid of the night."

I strummed the last chord, my battered lute singing as bright and clear as I did, and bowed my head as the patrons raised their mugs. They didn't clap or cheer, nor did they put coins in the case at my feet as they once had. But they quieted when I sang, and they listened, and they helped us both forget about the terrible times we lived in.

Old Barlin smiled and walked over, limping slightly. He'd managed to injure his leg trying to make traps, and last I'd heard he was looking for someone to do so for him. _Maybe I could. I could use the silver to help some of these people. I'd just need some- _I blinked. _No. I left that life behind me._

Old Barlin finally squeezed his way past a group of patrons. "Aw, Sister, it's right nice to see ya. A fight was brewin' afore ya started singin', what with the new arrival. Not sure how long they'll stay calm, but I 'preciate it."

I smiled back at him. "It is no trouble. I do not wish to see a fight start any more than you do."

Barlin laughed, before cursing as a patron shouldered his way past him. I would have thought it rude, had the tavern not been so crowded. As it was, patience and room were in short supply. "Not sure why anyone'd want to brawl in this." He grumbled. "Be like fighting in a swamp."

I nodded in agreement. "Let us hope it stays peaceful. I do not think we need more trouble than we already…" I trailed off as I heard the door open. _More refugees? _I craned my head in the direction of the door, causing Barlin to do the same.

Opening the door was a tall blond man, clad in armor far too battered for someone so young. _He probably not a mercenary at his age. A soldier from Ostagar? _It would certainly explain why he looked so downcast. _May the Maker have mercy on those poor souls. _Following him was a massive Mabari, easily as big as he was. It was nuzzling his hand, clearly after some form of treat, only to be refused time and again. Given the conviction both of them had, it was an argument that had been going on for some time. I stifled a giggle. _If that mabari leans on him any more, he'll fall over!_ And following them was…

* * *

Leliana stopped. Seeing the inquisitive look on Varric's face, she gestured irritably. "Stop writing. I need to get this right in my head before I say it."

Aegnor nodded. "I must admit, I'm curious. I've never heard you tell this part."

Varric cleared his throat irritably. "Would you mind letting the resident storyteller in on the secret? I'm the one who's used about ten sovereigns of paper and ink writing this all down, _not _something that's easy to come by in the mountains."

Aegnor shrugged amiably. "Send me the bill. Money isn't an issue for me at the moment."

Leliana gave him an irritated look. "In that case, would you mind donating some to the Inquisition? It would save us a lot of time bowing and scraping, time that could be used for _sealing the Breach."_

Aegnor shook his head. "I don't have enough with me to make a difference. I gave most of it to the Grey Wardens of Amaranthine."

"I see, so it's not an issue until someone wants you to put it to good use?"

Varric coughed. "You know, I really don't give shit about the money."

"Varric?"

"Wildfire?"

"Not the safest time to interject."

Varric gulped. "Point taken."

Leliana sighed and sat back in her chair. "No, he is right. I was stalling." Varric was tempted to say something. Wisely, however, he decided to stop while he was ahead. "It is… it sounds very childish, as I remember it."

Aegnor gave a faint smile. "You're not alone, there."

She shot him an irritated look. "Do not patronize me!"

Aegnor raised an eyebrow. "I've given voice to every one of my visions thus far. I can describe yours as best I can, but only you can do it justice."

Varric spoke up. "He's not kidding. At this point, I think every one of us has seen some weird shit we don't wanna talk about."

Leliana threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine! I… I had a vision from the Maker." She said it in a rush, as if afraid someone would interrupt her. She glared defiantly at Aegnor, as if daring him to say something.

He didn't.

Varric cleared his throat and reached for his pen. "So because of this vision, you recognized her?" He asked.

Leliana relaxed slightly and nodded. "Yes. I knew that she was important, and if the Maker wills it, who am I to judge?"

* * *

I stood and brushed past Barlin, muttering some excuse that seemed to mollify him. Even at the time I couldn't have told you what I had said. A quick check for my concealed dagger, a habit I had kept, revealed that it was still there. Secure, I approached the trio. The hound's incessant attempts to beg food from the man made it impossible to think of him as just an animal.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one to notice them. A pair of soldiers, one wearing the polished steel armor of an officer, stood as they entered and reached them before I could.

The officer spoke first. "Look here! I think we've just been blessed."

His subordinate turned to him. "Didn't we ask just this morning if anyone had seen them?"

The officer grunted. "It seems we were lied to." To his credit, he barely flinched when the Mabari started growling.

Ellie put up her hands in a calming gesture and started backing up slowly. "L-look, we don't want any trouble! We only just got here!"

The man drew his sword and unlimbered his shield. _He smells a fight. _I did too. "What do you want with us?" He demanded.

The two soldiers likewise armed themselves, and at a hand signal four more reluctantly abandoned their drinks and moved to join them.

Thankfully, I got there first. "Gentleman, surely there's no need for trouble. These are just more poor souls who have-"

The officer cut me off. "They're more than that! Stay out of our way sister, or you'll get the same as them!"

Ellie kept one of her hands behind her back, with the other held up warningly. "Look, we've done nothing wrong! Whoever you think we are, you've got the wrong people!"

The officer snorted contemptuously. "You should've thought of that _before _you killed King Cailin, _Warden._"

The man sputtered for a second, then laughed nervously. "Wardens? Us? No, no, no Wardens here! It's just, er, me and my sister-" The hound barked. "-and her dog! Yes."

I shook my head. "It does not appear that he will see reason."

The officer leveled his sword at Alistair. "Be quiet. One way or another, you're coming with us."

The man started backing up alongside Ellie. "Actually, as a completely innocent man who doesn't know what you're talking about, I think I'll just walk out this door and get a drink at… er, not here."

Many things happened as the officer swung at him.

I pulled out my dagger and had one of their throats slit before he could react. Alistair blocked the blow with his shield and struck, only to be driven back as two others swarmed him. Ellie had her dagger out barely in time to parry. Given the difference in their reach and build, she was lucky. That was all the time her hound needed to rip out the offending soldier's throat.

A second man lunged at me, only to stagger backwards as I kicked a table into his gut. I used the path I had cleared to get behind another one of them and slit his throat. The man laid out the officer with a hard swipe of his shield, and, with the odds squarely back in our favor, I placed the tip of my dagger to one of their throats. Alistair covered the officer, while the hound convinced the man I'd staggered to stay put.

We stood there, breathing hard, for a few moments before I broke the tension. "Good. It looks like they have learned their lesson, and we can all stop fighting."

* * *

And where, you might ask, was I while this was happening?

* * *

Varric paused. "Didn't you already tell us that?"

"Did you write it down?"

"… Point taken."

* * *

An unfortunate reality of our situation was that we needed coin, and lots of it, otherwise we'd soon be eating hardtack and shoe leather. As we lacked the time to earn it through… conventional means, collecting bounties on the Chanter's board would have to do. And so, Morrigan and I set out to clear the surrounding countryside of bandits, looters, and every other type of lowlife that inexplicably make themselves known during a crisis.

Humans. No matter where I go, they become their own worst enemies when things have already gone to shit.

When we were finished, I was filthy, sore, cut, bruised, and covered in blood. Morrigan remained unruffled. I didn't begrudge her. I had trained with the sword since I was four, but no amount of skill would've saved me from being arrowshot twice over. Thankfully, her ice magic solved that particular problem. Bowstrings were completely useless when brittle as glass. Carrying the loot by ourselves had, of course, been impossible, so we'd hidden the heavier valuables in the cave formerly guarded by spiders. The necessary… trophies, let's call them, for proof of a job well done were of course carried by me. Morrigan had solved that particular debate by turning into an owl and scouting for other bandits as soon as I was finished collecting them.

In retrospect, I might have begrudged her a bit.

We took a different path into Lothering for two reasons. The first was to avoid trudging through the myriad corpses we'd left behind on our way through. The second, more important, reason was to investigate the rumor of a _Qunari _of all people imprisoned in a cell on the north side of town. I wish I could say that I had a plan in mind, but in all honesty I was sixteen and had never seen one before.

He didn't disappoint. Even from a distance, I could see that he was easily a head taller than even Alistair. I wasn't sure if Ellie would even come up to his chest. As I got closer, I could make out some form of chant, though he used words I had never before heard. I realize now that he was merely speaking Qunlat, but at the time this bronze, statue still giant rumbling in an alien tongue had me suitably impressed.

His eyes swung to meet mine. "You are not like the others who have come to see me."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to hide my surprise at him addressing me so quickly. "Why is that?"

He grunted. "You ask questions, for one. For another, there is no fear in your eyes. You have a look of the children who saw me when I first came to Ferelden, though they were not covered in gore."

I raised an eyebrow. "And why would shemlen fear a man in a cage?"

"You will have to ask them."

He seemed content to leave it at that. I wasn't, so I tried a different tactic. "My name is Aegnor. Pleased to meet you." Morrigan, hearing this, decided that she had better things to do and wandered off. I never did get an answer to what those things were, exactly. I doubt they involved social interaction, however.

Sten's brow furrowed ever so slightly. "You mock me. Or you show manners I have not come to expect in this land." He considered me for a second. "Very well. I am Sten of the Beresead, the Vanguard of the Qunari people."

_That _piqued my interest. "You were a soldier?"

"I _am _a soldier. A cage does not change that." His eyes shifted slightly. "What are you? You are not like others I have seen."

"I am Dalish."

"The Dalish are your people, the Qunari mine. _What _are you?"

I took a few moments to consider. _An… interesting point of view, to say the least. _Tired as I was, an idea nonetheless began to take shape. I couldn't let it develop and focus on lying at the same time, so I decided to give honesty a try. "I am a Grey Warden."

"Truly?" I nodded. "Interesting. My people have heard legends, even in Seheron."

I cocked my head. _There was a set of full plate too big for even Alistair on one of the bandit leaders, and a matching greatsword. Maybe…_ "And what do they tell you?"

"They speak of great warriors, and peerless strategists." His eyes flickered briefly, and his frown seemed to lessen slightly. "Much of that blood is not yours. You do not seem entirely incompetent."

I nodded to myself. _Creators, I hope the Qunari train their warriors well. _"Bandits are one thing, darkspawn are another. I cannot face the horde with so few in my company. If I freed you, would you aid me?"

The lines in his face deepened, which I hoped was a sign of curiosity. On anyone else, I would've assumed it was anger. "I was caged for a reason, you realize."

"Will that reason repeat itself?"

"No."

I grunted. "Then consider it atonement. Fighting darkspawn is not a reward."

His hands clenched briefly, as if to grasp a sword. "Atonement… very well. Free me, and I will aid you. The Revered Mother has the key to my cage." I took a second to process that statement before breaking out into gales of laughter. His frown deepened. "I do not see the humor."

I wiped the tears from my eyes and, still chuckling, began walking into Lothering. "There are ways to open a lock without having to listen to a self-righteous old biddy." With that, I quickened my pace towards the tavern where, hopefully, Ellie hadn't run into trouble. I felt Sten's eyes following me as I went.

I daresay he didn't know quite what to make of me. After all, who meets someone for the first time, convinces them to fight monsters within five minutes, then walks off laughing?

**And there it is, Chapter 12! I tried initially to be descriptive with Sten's dialogue, but it never looked right to me, so I went with a minimalistic approach for his lines. Leliana's was a bit trickier. In the end, I had to say them out loud in a French accent after writing each one to make sure it sounded right. **

**Anyway, if you liked it, or thought it could use some work, leave a review and let me know! They're the reason I and every other writer on this site continue to improve, and we love the feedback.**


	14. Chapter 13: Ash and Fire

**Sorry for the delay! I find myself planning too far ahead instead of focusing on what's in front of me, and "splitting the party" as it were slowed this chapter down immensely. With this, though, we're finally out of Lothering and on the road to the meat of the story.**

**Leliana**

It was Ellie who brought up the obvious issue. "What do we do with them?"

A fair question. I pointedly ignored the feeling that killing them was the safest option. _That is no longer me. _"You could just send them on their way. I get the impression that you do not mean to linger in Lothering. Whatever they told Loghain would be of no harm."

She considered it. I was surprised that she, as opposed to Alistair, seemed to be speaking for the trio. She may have worn the armor of a warrior, but she still looked shockingly young. The hound, for his part, had decided to use one of the soldiers still on the ground as a cushion. The unfortunate man had tried to extricate himself before a growl convinced him that slowly suffocating was preferable to getting his throat torn out.

Her face lit up. "Better idea." She said, more to herself than us. She whistled to Garahel, who reluctantly abandoned his cushion and trotted to her side. _She doesn't need the protection now. A peace offering? _The former cushion's desperate gasps for air suggested that she'd saved him, at any rate. She pointed to the leader before pausing, and turning to Alistair. "They tried to kill us. Does sparing them mean we get to tell them what to do?"

Alistair gave her a bewildered look. "Er, yes! Maybe? Sometimes, I guess."

"Sometimes?"

"I haven't exactly been in this situation before, alright? Darkspawn aren't good with the whole 'surrendering' thing!"

She frowned, contemplating, her gaze intent on the floor. A couple of the soldiers saw this as an opportunity to start inching back into the crowd, before stopping dead as she addressed their leader. "You tried to kill us, when all we're trying to do is protect people from darkspawn!"

He gulped and took a half step back. "W-we were just following orders!"

She nodded. "Well, your new orders are to stay here and protect these people from darkspawn in our absence."

I couldn't help smiling. _You are worthy of His Gaze._

They, of course, had other ideas. "We can't just desert the Regent! That's treason!" The leader sputtered, gesturing wildly.

Alistair's face flushed. "Loghain's a traitor!" He spat. "He got the King and the Grey Wardens killed! And you're just going to _defend _him?!"

Ellie flinched and backed away from the two of them. Curiously, it was Alistair she seemed more nervous about.

"He saved us!" Their leader countered. "If it wasn't for him, we'd be rotting in some darkspawn's belly!"

"Better that than leaving us all to die!"

One of the others spoke up. "If that's the case, how'd you get away, eh? You say Loghain's lying, but if you didn't kill the King, then why are you here? If we abandoned him, you did too!"

Alistair looked murderous. _Merde. It looks like things might turn ugly again. _I shifted behind the leader again and kept my dagger in hand. They'd been forced to drop their weapons the first time around, but it always pays to be careful.

The dull sound of wood scraping on wood cut through the tension. Every head in the room turned to see a wiry man wearing rough hide armor stand up from his table and make his way through the crowd. His unkempt black hair was matched by a shaggy beard, both streaked with grey. His hand rested loosely on the axe hanging at his side. The entire length was covered in small notches, the point that they had begun to overlap.

He reached the leader and looked up to him, dark eyes glittering with contempt. "You'll do as she says." He said, his accent a thick burr.

The leader, not yet accepting defeat, looked down his nose at the newcomer and scoffed. "Who in the Maker's name are you supposed to be?"

The wiry man frowned slightly. "You're a shit officer if you don't know that."

Ellie cocked her head to the side, trying to get a better look. Her eyes widened in recognition when she saw his axe. "An Ash Warrior."

A smile appeared on the wiry man's face, and he gave a little bow. "I am glad that one of the Grey Wardens recognizes us, at least. I am Captain Arratay. Well met" He turned back to the officer, who had grown rather pale. "As for why you'll listen to her, you shouldn't give a thin sliver of a damn what I say about that. Humans are terrible judges of character. Mabari, on the other hand, are peerless." He gestured towards Garahel, who sat up straight at the attention and managed to look dignified and regal enough to pose for a portrait. "A Mabari of his caliber would never imprint on someone who killed their King."

"Er…"

The Ash Warrior's hand snapped out and latched onto the officer's collar, dragging him down to look him in the eye. "As for why you'll listen to _me_, I'll split your skull in two if you don't do your duty and help these people. I'll be damned if some coddled bootlicker gets to walk away from trying to kill Grey Wardens after I lose half my men and my Mabari to the darkspawn because you and your lot are _too cowardly to fight them." _He didn't raise his voice, but his words sends a chill down my spine. It wasn't a threat. It was spoken as if it was a fact, like telling a child that they'll get wet if they go out in the rain.

He held his gaze for a moment before shoving him roughly towards the door. "You and your men will camp by the refugees near the western gate. One of my men will deliver the watch rotations by sundown." When they stood there stunned, his expression hardened. His first step galvanized them into action. They collected their weapons and bolted for the door, tripping over each other in their haste. It would've been comical if it wasn't for the corpses still pooling blood on the floor.

Ellie gave him a cautious look. "Er… thank you?"

Arratay smiled and inclined his head. "No, thank you. I've been wondering how in the Maker's name I'll be able to justify leaving. With his soldiers here, we won't have a gap in the guard schedule."

Alistair spoke up. "You're leaving? Why? These people need help!"

Arratay grunted his assent. "That they do. Lothering is just one village, however, and I was at Ostagar. Someone needs to gather the rest of the Ash Warriors, and I'm one of two officers left with the authority to do that. My colleague will have to stay here with the rest of the lads and do what he can."

Ellie frowned. "I thought you were all at Ostagar."

Arratay shook his head. "The King was eager to take the fight to the darkspawn. Only those who were easily mobilized joined the army. The rest are scattered around Ferelden." He glanced around at the patrons, many of whom were leaning in to catch more of the conversation. "We should talk somewhere private. Do you know a place?"

Ellie shook her head. "Not in Lothering."

Arratay grunted again. This one seemed to translate to "of course there's no good place to talk". "In that case, I hope you won't mind camping by the pond to the North. I'll gather the lads I'm bringing with me and meet you there."

Ellie glanced at Alistair, saw no disagreement, and nodded. "We'll be there until dawn."

Arratay waved it off. "We won't dawdle, Warden. Stay safe."

**Aegnor**

I missed Ellie on my first pass through town. Slightly annoyed, I left Morrigan to keep watch in her crow form while I spoke to the Chanter (a concept that baffles me to this day) and collected all of the bounties. Apparently, they were so impressed with the work I'd done that they thought me deserving of a blade normally reserved for the Chantry's greatest defenders by the name of Oathkeeper. The thought amused me more than it should have. A sword and a bulging coinpurse later and I was in a rather good mood, all things considered. It was at this point that, seeing as Morrigan had yet to find Ellie, I decided to be proactive about the food shortage and recruited some enterprising youngsters from outside the Chantry.

The aforementioned greedy merchant was one who'd bribed me with a sovereign to drive off everyone complaining about his prices. Thankfully, I'd done it after Alistair and Ellie had gone to the tavern, otherwise they might've mutinied. This time, I put his discount to good use, buying useful items in a haphazard manner, inquiring as to his policy regarding slightly used equipment, asking where one could reliably offload such cargo, and forcing him to try and fit me into a suit of armor from his stock before we were forced to concede that I wasn't nearly broad enough in the chest and shoulder. The exchange had been profitable enough for him despite that particular mishap, and he bid me good day in a cheery mood on my way out.

I sincerely hoped that we were out of town when he realized that most of his food stores had "mysteriously" made their way over to the Chantry.

Morrigan found me afterwards. It would have been far more dramatic for her to fly from the tallest rooftop and change shape before my very eyes, but in reality she flew into a discrete alley and poked me to get my attention. "Are you quite finished haggling with him? It is difficult to approach you while you're convincing fools to steal things."

I snorted. "I'm about as fond of these shems as you are, but they don't deserve to be eaten by darkspawn. Hopefully they'll be able to make their way North now that they won't starve on the way."

She sniffed. "And if they mill about like sheep as they have been?"

"Then they die with full stomachs." I frowned, uncomfortable with the mental image. _You've done what you can. They have everything they need to save themselves. _It was a better chance than Tamlen had.

I shook myself out of my reverie. "Did you find Ellie?"

She nodded, a faint sneer of disdain crossing her face. "I did. She followed a Chantry Sister back to the Chantry, along with Alistair and that hound of hers. They were speaking rather intently with each other."

My brow furrowed as I chewed over this development. _A Chantry Sister? What would that accomplish? Did they get roped into speaking with the Revered Mother? _Not relishing a spirited debate regarding unsanctioned magic and my own heretical tendencies, I could only hope I could find them before she did. "I'm guessing you have no desire to follow them into the Chantry."

She laughed. "I'm as fond of the Chantry as you are." She said, mocking my earlier words.

I raised an eyebrow. "Then you won't mind waiting for us outside? Excellent."

She crossed her arms and huffed. "That wasn't what I meant, and you well know it. I'll find my own way to pass the time and find you later."

There are many things a woman can do to influence a young man, and with Morrigan's choice of dress, crossing her arms underneath her chest was as effective as one can get. I had no desire to continue the conversation and thoroughly embarrass myself, so I waved her off. "Fine. We'll be out of Lothering before nightfall."

She smirked. "How gracious, oh fearless leader." I didn't bother responding, and started back towards the Chantry, pointedly ignoring how hot my ears had gotten.

Getting into the Chantry wasn't as easy as I expected, what with the crazy Chasind fellow ranting outside of it, but after a few minutes talking him down I managed to be turned away from the building by the Templars who were supposed to be the real doormen in the first place. At the sight of me, the pair of them drew their swords and crossed them theatrically in front of the door. "Hold! This is a place of prayer and salvation for the faithful."

I grunted, trying to keep my mounting annoyance from coming to the forefront. "I can see that. I just need to meet with someone who's inside."

I could hear the sneer in his voice, even muffled by his bucket helm. "And who might that be?"

I gave him a flat look. "That's my business. Now open the door so I can be out of your hair." I waited. Neither of them made any move to do so. Any amusement I may have derived by imaging how tired their arms were getting dried up in the face of getting delayed by two zealots in skirts while country was being assaulted by the literal embodiment of evil. With an irritated sigh, I moved to brush aside their swords and push the doors open myself.

Needless to say, they took exception.

**Leliana**

My room at the Chantry was plain, even spartan by some standards. A bed, more of a cot, lay in the corner with a chest at the end, crammed alongside the beds of the other lay sisters. It may seem odd, especially now, but that bed was more a home to me than any since.

I sat down and gave the Wardens following a charming smile. "This is better. A talk like this should be private." Ellie's eyes wandered to the Sister's walking in and out, many of them visibly curious. I waved my hand dismissively. "More private than a crowded tavern, at any rate."

Ellie's features tightened, her posture tense. Alistair, not noticing, shrugged and strode off, returning with two chairs. Both sank into them with groans of appreciation, though Alistair's chair groaned in return, having been designed for Chantry Sisters instead of tall, armored warriors.

He smiled, happy to be off his feet. "So who are you, anyway? I've met a lot of Chantry Sisters, and none of them carried daggers! Did they start teaching that after I left?"

I laughed, glad that the man who had spat such venom at the soldier had a sense of humor. I'd half expected him to remain angry for a while yet, but there was no trace of it. "My name is Leliana, and no, I did not learn to carry daggers from the Chantry. Call it a relic of my misspent youth. Many of those who become Lay Sisters have had interesting pasts."

His eyebrows flew up. "Really? Huh. And I always thought that it'd be the Templars with the best stories."

"Oh, some do. People don't expect Lay Sisters to have had their own adventures, however, and it makes the tale much more exciting when you aren't picturing a grim man in full armor." I turned to Ellie, who seemed to be growing more tense by the second. "Is something the matter? I doubt those soldiers will trouble us again, if that is your worry."

She shook her head and took a breath. "I… it's nothing." She was a horrible liar. She breathed in, deeper this time, and let it out in a rush before meeting my gaze. "What do you want, if I may ask? The Chantry doesn't like Wardens, from what I've seen."

I cocked my head. _Personal experience, maybe? It might be why she's nervous in a Chantry._ "I wasn't aware the two didn't get along. I know the Wardens allow some… _unconventional _methods, but only a fool ignores the good they can do."

I thought I caught a flash of surprise in her eyes. "You haven't answered my question."

_Sharp little thing. _I nodded approvingly. "So I haven't. I don't think either of you want to stay longer than necessary, so I'll simply say that I want to help, and after Ostagar you need help."

Alistair's mood darkened after at "Ostagar", and Ellie frowned. "Why would you want to help? Darkspawn are…" She shuddered and clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening at whatever memory she was experiencing. "Darkspawn are not drunk soldiers." She finished, the implication clear.

"I know. I can't say I look forward to seeing them. But when the Maker asks, how can I refuse?"

"What?"

I smiled, though inwardly I was nervous as a new whore, as the saying goes. _You should have known they wouldn't just accept, _I chided myself. _What happened at Ostagar would make anyone wary. _"He has shown me my path, and that I must share it with you, Ellerina Amell."

Ellie's chair toppled over as she leaped from it and took several steps back. Alistair rose more slowly. While Ellie's expression was one of shock and fear, his was of suspicion. "How do you know her name? You just met her!"

"I told you, did I not? The Maker would not give one of His children a purpose, only to leave them searching blindly."

"You're saying that the Maker told you my _name?"_

I sighed. "It's… difficult to explain. It was… I will need to find words for it." I gave a reassuring smile in response to their expressions, one bemused, the other shocked. "It is not faith offer, but more tangible aid, in any event."

Alistair cocked his head. "And if you change your mind?"

I shrugged. "It is easy enough to leave, no?"

He thought about it, then smiled and extended a hand. "Welcome to our rag-tag group of Wardens, then. Sanity is optional-"

Ellie piped up. "Though recommended-"

"-So long as you don't tell Aegnor about the 'vision from the Maker' thing." Alistair finished.

I raised an eyebrow. "Aegnor? Is that a Dalish name?"

Ellie nodded. "He's our… leader?" She finished as if asking a question.

Alistair shrugged. "Close enough. He's not fond of Templars, or the Chantry in general. Many Dalish still haven't forgiven them for the whole 'Exalted March' thing, I guess."

"I can avoid spouting scripture at him, if needs must." Laughing, I stood up and went to the foot of the bed, opening my trunk.

Alistair eyed it dubiously. "Are you going to carry that with you?" I saw his point. While small, it was sturdily constructed and would make for an awkward load.

I shook my head and, with the quick turn of a key, opened it and pulled out the bundle inside. "If he's not fond of the Chantry, then I shouldn't be dressed as a priest, no?" I stood, and suppressed a shiver as I remembered the last time I'd worn it. _This will be different. _"Give me a moment to get changed, and I'll be with you."

It took longer than I'd thought, my clever fingers used to little more than lute strings now struggling with the myriad buckles and straps needed to keep such a suit functional and in place. I was pleased with the result though, and I walked back to the waiting pai-sorry, _trio, _I stood taller than I had in years.

Ellie's eyes widened as she saw me before, seeing that I'd noticed, blushing and averting her gaze. _What in… oh. _I'd forgotten what I was wearing before. A chantry robe, while functional in day to day life, is far baggier than combat apparel. I frowned inwardly. _She's wearing a similar set, though… she can't have been a Warden long if this embarrasses her. _I pressed on. "Are we ready to leave?"

Alistair, distracted by a conversation with one of the Templars, belatedly turned his head. "What? Yes! We can leave." He addressed the Templar. "Good luck, Ser Bryant."

"You as well, Warden Alistair. I wish I could do more to help."

Before we reached the doors, a muffled thud accompanied by a metallic scrape could be heard, even through the thick wooden planks. I frowned and quickened my step, Alistair and Ellie just behind me, and pushed the doors open.

I wasn't quite prepared for what I saw.

One Templar was already on the ground, his sword some distance away. The other door-guard was swinging wildly at a tattooed elf covered in blood with a shocking mane of red hair, his own sword still in its scabbard. As I watched, he ducked underneath one swing, seized the man by his throat, and slammed him into the flagstones with the loud shriek of metal on stone.

_Maker's Breath, what have I gotten myself into?_

**And there we have it! Leliana's first impression of Aegnor. I'll probably come back at some point and tweak the end to this chapter, but I'm honestly sick of Lothering and glad to leave it behind. **

**Arratay was borne of my frustration with either killing or releasing Loghain's soldiers, neither of which Ellie or Alistair would do; the former on account of being immoral, the latter on account of being pointless at best and foolish at worst. Both Ellie and Alistair lack the intimidation factor needed to make them stay and help out, and so Arratay came to be. His name and appearance I borrowed from a moderately successful series of novels, and I hope at least one of you recognizes him. **

**Third, while I'm curious to see how it would turn out, a Dragon Age 2 story to complement this one is unlikely. I might start a drabbles collection to answer some questions, I'm not sure. For those wondering, my Hawke for this story is a Male Warrior who had no romances, dueled the Arishok after Isabela ran off, and sided with the Mages. Both Carver and Bethany survived the Blight, with Carver joining the Templars and Bethany becoming a Warden. And, surprise surprise, Hawke survived his encounter with Aegnor, so no worries about him being dead before Adamant. Poor Varric's been through enough by this stage.**

**Finally, if you liked it or saw something that could use improvement, leave a review and let me know! **


	15. Chapter 15: A Madman's Nightmares

Varric burst out laughing. "Hold on, Leliana, let me get this-" He choked on the words as another laugh forced its way out, and he decided that the best thing for it was to wait for them to stop.

It was a long wait.

Aegnor and Leliana eyed him expectantly as he subsided into chuckling, though thankfully neither of them seemed particularly annoyed. Both of them, in fact, were struggling to keep a grin from breaking out on their faces, disguising the process as entirely normal twitching at the corners of the mouth. Varric held up a hand and took a breath. "Let me get this straight. The first time you met Aegnor was when he beat the shit out of some Templar?"

Leliana nodded. "It was quite the first impression. I had expected him to be rude, blasphemous even, towards the Chantry. I hadn't expected him to attack Templars on its very doorstep!"

Aegnor leaned back with a contented expression, savoring the memory. "In my defense, _they _attacked _me. _I didn't even kill them."

"Wildfire, you do realize that _not _killing people is something most take for granted?"

Aegnor shrugged without a hint of self-consciousness. "When someone calls me a bloody knife-ear and swings a sword at me, their chances of survival drop rather dramatically."

Leliana's expression hardened. "Perhaps that was because you showed up armed and covered in blood? 'Bloody' has a different meaning in that case."

"Ma serannas. I had not considered that. Doubtless it would have been rectified to 'filthy knife-ear' had I bothered to wash off the blood." Aegnor replied acidly.

Varric cleared his throat. "Maybe you could tell me what happened next?"

Aegnor blinked. "We were just now, more or less. Ellie, Alistair, and I had quite the spirited debate as we made our way out of town."

"Oh? I thought you and Ellie had similar views on Templars."

Aegnor snorted. "We did. Her fear was that we'd be run out of town with torches and pitchforks, which is something of an ingrained fear for Circle Mages. Ellie was getting better, but sixteen years of being told that you're being protected from the world isn't washed away by a plucky elf in three weeks." He paused. "It was Alistair who took offense to the whole process. His views were slightly more orthodox, and Leli-"

"-Was too nonplussed to comment." Leliana softened at the mention of Ellie. "She did agree to unlock Sten's cage, in the end. The Revered Mother was understandably reluctant to hand over the key at that point. We scouted out the next bit of the Imperial Highway and, after dispatching a few Darkspawn, we had a grateful merchant by the name of Bodahn, who offered his services."

Aegnor smiled. "Good old Bodahn. I do miss him. He always seemed to have what we needed at the time, and his son Sandal is the best enchanter I've ever seen. Even at that early stage, his ox and cart were invaluable. Without it, we wouldn't have been able to carry half of the supplies we needed."

Varric leaned forward, his interest piqued. "I know Bodahn said he traveled with the Hero of Ferelden, but I didn't know he joined you so early!"

Aegnor nodded sadly. "He's not perfect, but he deserves more mention than he gets. I suppose that fighting darkspawn is more glamorous than keeping the Wardens of Ferelden from starving to death. I don't think he minds, though. He's never been one for fame and glory."

"Speaking of which…"

"Abelas, Varric. Would you care to, or shall I?"

"Ladies first, I think."

"By all means."

**Leliana**

I spent much of my time on the road to Redcliffe acquainting myself with the varied members of our company, with my success differing wildly based on whom I was speaking to. Captain Arratay was a rough, friendly sort, and he surprised me by recognizing three of the five daggers I kept hidden on my person. Had he spotted the other two, I might have accused him of spying on me, but the simple truth was that an old fox like him knew many of the tricks I did. I think it for the best, as earning his respect kept his men in line. Armor or not, skinny girls from the Chantry are seen by many soldiers as a sanctimonious tagalong.

Alistair was a sweet boy, and seemed very out of place. He wavered between helpless melancholy and the cheeky humor he used as a shield against the world, something that Aegnor and Ellie were either too distracted or, more likely, too inexperienced to help with. My initial attempts to speak with him were largely fruitless. Between the brutal pace set by Aegnor and his continued grieving, he said little and, when I pressed, responded to my queries as crookedly as possible. It was from this that I learned he was, apparently, "raised by dogs".

Morrigan and Sten made it abundantly clear that my desire to know more about them was foolish and unwelcome. With Sten, I could somewhat understand. The cultural gap between us was even larger than that between a painted Orlesian lord and a Ferelden farmer, though whether he realized this or was being stubborn I couldn't say. Morrigan, on the other hand, was simply a bitch. The two of us managed to settle into a tolerance of one another, helped by her pitching her tent away from our campsite. Amazingly, Aegnor seemed to get along with the two reasonably well. After his display in Lothering, I couldn't decide if he was ruthless or simply pragmatic.

Well aware of Aegnor's Chantry aversion, I decided to approach Ellie first.

I groaned with relief as I slumped to the ground, too tired to care about the rocks digging into my rear. _Maker's Breath, I'm beginning to regret leaving the Chantry. _I had slipped further than I cared to admit in my time there, and I had a sneaking suspicion that I would've been bone tired even in my prime. Even the Ash Warriors were showing signs of fatigue. Aegnor and Sten were infuriatingly unruffled, and were conferring quietly as they started pitching their tents. I idly wondered if I could get one of them to pitch mine for me, discarding the idea almost immediately. _I asked to join, after all. I'll have to pull my own weight. _

It seemed as good a time as any to approach Ellie, so I moved to pitch my tent next to hers. She gave me a wary glance. "Are you sure? I tend to stay up late."

"I'm used to sleeping with a bit of noise." I replied easily. "A few of the Lay Sisters snored _terribly._"

"They never got better at it? One would think they might improve after doing it for so long." Her reply was almost automatic, her eyes never straying from what her hands were doing. After a few moments, she paused and blushed, looking down.

A dozen clever comebacks came to mind before, reluctantly, I pushed them down again. "One would think." I replied, unable to keep a bit of mirth from my voice. Still she remained tense. "They can't hear you, Ellie. Most Lay Sisters don't wait in ambush by campsites."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. It just… doesn't seem like the best time to be making jokes." She admitted, before ducking behind her tent to pitch the other side. A good response didn't reveal itself, so I let our brief conversation lapse into silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aegnor walk over to what the Ash Warriors had started calling "The Loot Cart", select a bow and quiver of questionable origin, and stride off into the surrounding forest. Morrigan followed close behind him.

_Best to ask her before he gets back. _Once the pair was out of earshot, I spoke up. "What do you make of Aegnor?" I asked, careful to keep my tone gentle.

She jumped slightly and spun in my direction. "Hm? Oh, right. Sorry, you caught me daydreaming." Her cheeks colored again, and I wondered not for the first time how she ended up a Grey Warden. "Why do you ask?"

I gave a small shrug. "You've known him longest, from what I gather, and I'm… well, I _was _a Lay Sister, so I was hoping to avoid offending him."

"I don't… hm." She paused, her brow furrowed. "I suppose I _have _known him longest."

I cocked my head, curious. "How long have you known him, then?" I asked.

"Less than a month." She replied. "Maker, that doesn't seem like much, does it?"

I paused, thinking. "It can be long enough." I decided. There were a few friends in my past that defied how long I'd known them.

She gave a faint smile. "Well, if the world doesn't make sense anymore, then I suppose this shouldn't either." She finished driving the last spike into the ground with some difficulty and, tent finished, set her bag inside with a gentleness that didn't prevent a half dozen clinks ringing out. She sighed. "Blast."

"What is it?" I asked, and instead of answering she began rummaging through her bag as if I wasn't there. It was nearly half a minute before she retrieved a small case, opened it slightly, and replaced it.

Her shoulders slumped and she gave me a look that was both relieved and sheepish. "Sorry about that. There are some things in there that can't be replaced."

I like to think I hid my bemusement well, though my skills as a Bard were rusty at best. "It is no trouble." I replied, out of reflex more than anything. "There is a keepsake I treasure dearly, though it is not so fragile."

She gave me a wary look, before giving in to her curiosity. "What is it?"

I toyed with the idea of telling her, before I remembered why I approached her. "I asked you a question first, no?" I asked. "I'll answer if you do."

Ellie scowled. "Fair, but you'll have to talk to him yourself at some point."

I nodded. "I intend to. However, I have never met a Dalish Elf before, and he seems less fond of the Chantry. If I misstep, I doubt his impression of me will be easily mended."

Ellie sighed and closed her eyes. I half expected her to ignore me again before she stared speaking. "I'm not entirely sure about him myself. "She admitted, speaking softly. "I know what he's told me, and I trust him with my life, but he doesn't talk or act like a normal person."

Thinking back to the sound of the Templar hitting the flagstones, I winced. "He does seem… quick to anger."

Ellie shook her head sharply, nearly hitting me with her hair as it swung past. "That's not it. Normal people get angry. No normal person treats Templars trying to kill them as an inconvenience." She sighed. "I'm afraid we'll get to Redcliffe and he'll treat the Arl like a subordinate and consider it natural, what with the Blight making mincemeat of the south."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Do you really think that?"

She shrugged. "I'm exaggerating." She admitted. "But not by much, I think. His most favorable view of nobles came from King Cailan, and trusting him led to thousands being slaughtered." She paused. "Don't tell him I said that."

I chuckled. "Because he'll tolerate me so well if I mention you doubting him."

She didn't share my levity. "I don't doubt him. Not in the least."

"Why?"

She made a sweeping gesture. "Look around. A witch, a giant with blood on his hands, a former Templar still in grieving, a group of Ash Warriors, and you. Could any of you stop a Blight?"

There was only one honest answer to that. "No." I admitted. "But what about you?"

She shook her head and brought her knees up to her chest. Suddenly, she looked very small. "Me? I can't lead. I'm not mad enough to accept Sten's help, or thick-skinned enough to placate Morrigan. I'm not confident enough to think that a dozen people can make a bit of difference."

I frowned. "Then why do you stay? Surely you and Alistair could go to Orlais and work with the Grey Wardens there."

She didn't hesitate. "Because that crazy elf thinks it's possible, and neither of us are heartless enough to abandon people to the Blight if there's a chance we can save them." She said with finality. After a moment, she flushed a deep red and fled inside her tent. I let her go. I had my answer.

_A madman, then? _That would have explained much. The image of the wild-eyed elf, covered in blood and slamming a Templar down onto the cobblestones, did little to dissuade the notion. _He cannot be so far gone. _I considered what I knew for a moment, then shrugged mentally. Even if he was, my time as a Bard had taught me that those who hid their vicious side were far more dangerous to their allies. I would not make that mistake again.

After a time, I stopped musing on the subject, and allowed myself to relax. Thoughts of how I might civilize this little group danced through my mind, each more ridiculous than the last, and I let them flow freely, content that tonight, at least, I could rest easily. My time as a Bard may have taught me many things, but my time with the Chantry taught me how to enjoy the moments of quiet. I value the latter more highly with each passing year.

**Aegnor**

After my attempt at remaining awake for days on end, I had resolved to sleep every night, no matter how bad the nightmares were. My mind may not have gotten rest, but my body did, and that would have to be enough. And, practically speaking, staying awake that long would make me even more useless mentally. It was all very practical. That said, there was no comfort to be found as the Blight fought to consume me.

Mouse appeared only briefly, to offer me the same deal as before. I refused, and struck at him, knowing that he needed only to leave. He did, and the nightmares came, worse than before. I cut through the Taint with blade in hand, forcing it back through my will as much as my it surrounded me and dug in its claws, I clawed it back. It dug its teeth into my neck, trying to wring the life from me, and I seized it in my jaws, recoiling at the foul taste before savaging it again.

No mage that I know of sees themselves as anything save their own race in the Fade, whether elven or human. Because of that, I cannot say why I saw myself as animalistic as I was fighting the Blight, or even where the elf ended and the beast began. Perhaps it was my desperation, or a lack of mental focus common to most mages. Morrigan, for instance, could transform into animals at will, yet remained firmly centered in a human identity. Why, then, did I not? I have no answers.

That night, however, I was not trapped as I had been. A faint light shone amidst the Taint, fragile in appearance yet as aloof and unchanging as the sun in the sky. Even as the Taint tore away at my identity and reduced me to the spawn it commanded, I could see the fragments of myself and gather them back, alien for them being gone and familiar once returned to the whole. With a final pull, I slammed myself through the Fade and back into my body, heedless of the tendrils that tore at my being, and gasped in a breath.

Cold sweat clung to me, matting my hair, and my heart hammered in my chest until I feared it would burst. For all that, the breath in my lungs was sweeter than anything I'd tasted. Looking down, I saw the cheap dagger in my hands, pulled from its place under my bedroll, and relaxed slightly, while marveling that I hadn't stabbed myself in my sleep given how much I'd been tossing and turning.

"Bad dreams, huh?"

I started and was halfway to my feet before I recognized the voice as Alistair's. I slumped back down, relieved, and nodded. "You could say that." I replied. I held the dagger awkwardly for a moment, before replacing it in its sheath. "This past night was the worst since the Joining, even without the Archdemon."

Alistair grinned ruefully. "I'm not the only one who's seen it, then." He said, unsurprised. "You can see how only Grey Wardens know if it's a Blight."

I huffed, frustrated. "Dreams. No wonder Duncan couldn't convince Cailan."

Alistair's shoulders fell. "No wonder." He replied, subdued.

I winced inwardly. _Duncan. Bad topic. _"Thank you, Alistair. It's good to know you've got my back." I said, forcing my tone to become lighthearted. My thanks, however, were sincere.

He brightened a bit, and smiled. "That's what I'm here for! Bad news and witty one liners." He joked, a mask of jocularity falling into place.

I chuckled, before pushing myself to my feet. "What time is it?"

Alistair shrugged. "A couple hours before dawn. Why?"

I grabbed my blade from my pack and drew it, twirling it experimentally. "I'm not getting any more sleep tonight. I'll take the last watch." Alistair nodded, and made for his bedroll.

When the sun rose and the early risers began to stir, I was still practicing the same lessons I'd learned when I was four, trying to reclaim a time when neither Darkspawn nor Demons mattered. It's easy to make the body remember, for the weight of a sword is always the same. The mind is another thing entirely.


	16. Chapter 16: Woes of the Living

_I'm outside of the tower. Not in any way I imagined. A daring escape by moonlight, being rescued by a prince in shining armor... even a plan as simple as swimming away like Anders did. None of that happened. I didn't even have to run. And now, here in Lothering, I can put to use the first items I have ever bought with my own money (well, the Grey Warden's money, but I'm hopeful that they won't mind). Something so simple as pen, ink, and paper, and yet so special for being mine!_

_I cannot say that I am happy. Less than a month has passed since my departure, and I am... changed. I am a Grey Warden tasked with defeating the Blight. I have performed magic in front of others, and not been punished. I bear several impressive bruises, yet I no longer flinch, now in fear that flinching will be the end of me, as Darkspawn are not appeased in the same way as humans. All of this is thanks to a Dalish Elf, the first I have met. I think that, if the circumstance were different, we would hate each other. That we don't is a boon. __However bad things are, for us and for Ferelden, I'm glad that I can rely on him._

_The Memoirs of Ellerina Amell, page 1. Unpublished._

Varric gave Aegnor an appraising look. "What about you? Do you think you're a madman?" He asked, scratching at his stubble.

Aegnor shrugged, a weary look on his face. "Does it matter? I've been called one more times than I can count. I suppose that if enough people think you're mad, then it becomes true.

Leliana arched an eyebrow. "Do not act as if you're blameless. Ellie was right, even then. You didn't, and don't, act like any sane person should." Her tone made it clear exactly what act she was thinking of.

He raised a hand. "Enough. We shouldn't bicker while the world crumbles around our ears." He said, injecting a bit of iron into his voice. "I believe it's time that we got to the meat of what happened. There, I think, will we find the answers everyone desires."

**Aegnor**

We stopped for a noonday meal which, while welcome, I viewed with some annoyance. We were only a few hours away from Redcliffe, and I had hoped to get there as soon as possible. Nevertheless, I recognized the mood of our group, and trying to force anyone to march on an empty stomach is foolhardy, if not hazardous to one's health. I consoled myself with a quick nap after eating. While deep sleep brought nightmares, dozing didn't seem to carry the same dangers, so I relished the feeling of basking in the sun, belly full, and head pleasantly empty.

This made it all the more jarring when an armored hand jostled my shoulder. Too groggy to get properly annoyed, I opened my eyes blearily and saw Alistair leaning over me, a nervous expression on his face. "What is it?" I asked, slurring my words more than I liked.

He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. "So, there's something I think I should tell you. You know, before we get to Redcliffe." He said awkwardly. The vindictive corner of my mind was glad of his discomfort, and my attempts to suppress it were halfhearted at best.

I brought myself to a vaguely upright position. "Don't just stand there." I snapped. "Out with it."

He sighed. "You are not making this easier."

I grunted, finally finding my feet. I was hoping to stop him looming over me, but I forgot how gigantic the man was. He was the only one whose head made it past Sten's chin. "It would have been easier to tell me anytime I wasn't napping."

He winced. "Fine, fine, forget I said anyth-"

I cut him off with a glare. "Tell me."

He hesitated, then straightened and took a deep breath. "Alright, how do I put this… I'm a bastard. And no, not that kind, I've heard all the jokes. My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe Castle, and my father… well, my father was King Maric."

I cocked my head. "So, you're Cailin's Brother?"

He shook his head emphatically. "No. We're half-brothers at best, and I only met him once before I became a Grey Warden." He peered at me suspiciously. "You're taking this awfully well. Should I claim I'm the Maker next?"

I shrugged. "You look like Cailin would if he didn't slick back his hair, and the both of you are freakishly tall. If you were a short redhead elf, I'd call you a liar." The beginnings of an idea formed, though my mind was still too sluggish to hold it. Reluctantly, I let it go, and focused on Alistair. "I'm not an expert on humans, but King Maric is dead and you're his son. Doesn't that make you king?" I asked.

He gave me a horrified look. "_No! _I don't want to be King, and everyone in Thedas will be happier I'm not." He sighed. "Look, I thought you should know, but could you just… forget I said anything? I'm a Grey Warden, just like you."

_What a strange human, to not want to rule. _I let the subject drop, to his visible relief, and got to my feet with a small groan. "In that case, Senior Warden Alistair, I'd like you to get the Ash Warriors up and moving." I nodded in their direction. They were a quiet group, content with Captain Arratay speaking for them, and tended to eat and sleep separately from the rest of us. "I'll get Ellie and the others moving."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Right, send me to deal with the grumpy people, is that it?" Nonetheless, he puffed up slightly and strode over to their side of the camp.

I blinked. _Did that… work? _I'd meant it to be offhand, but apparently ego stroking was easier than I thought. Or it was harder than I thought, and I could only manage it accidentally. In the end, I decided to leave that distinction up to Dirthamen, the lord of all great mysteries, and got moving myself.

"

Redcliffe was in sorry shape when we arrived, and given the standard set by Lothering, that was saying something. Charred foundations and the burnt out husks of houses lay here and there on the outskirts, and looked to have been recently set afire. _Doubt that many cookfires got out of hand, _I thought grimly. It became even more apparent when one caught sight of the inhabitants. They weren't starved, but their hollow eyes reminded me of corpses, and many wore bandages. Why they were still standing was revealed when I caught sight of their triage, which was overflowing with those having lost limbs or worse.

Ellie's expression matched the despair that surrounded us. "What happened here?" She asked, her tone disbelieving. "The Blight can't have reached here yet!"

I grimaced. "It hasn't." I said. "There are other foul things in this world besides Darkspawn. Bandits, wild animals, undead…" I bit off my opinions on the latter.

Alistair shook his head, looking queasy. "There's no way this could have happened! Where are the soldiers? Some of Eamon's knights were sent on a quest, but he should still have thousands of men! Any bandits would have been dealt with if they got within spitting distance of Redcliffe."

I looked around nervously, expecting a mob of humans to take offense at an elf and a qunari wandering around their homes, but they seemed too traumatized to respond. The simple fact that the natural, bigotry-laden response of rural humans had been squashed through sheer terror scared me more than I cared to admit. _We're dealing with something more than mere bandits. _My mind wandered to the undead once more, and I jerked my mind away from its reverie. "There's something strange going on." I remarked, trying to keep my thoughts in order. "If they were attacked, why aren't there sentries? They should have screamed bloody murder as soon as we arrived."

Morrigan sniffed. "Perhaps something _inside _the castle did this. This lord's own soldiers could be responsible."

Alistair's face fell into thunderclouds. He began to reply hotly, before Sten cut him off. "That would seem likely. Their wounded are on the outskirts. You would only put them there if the enemy was within." His voice, quiet and rarely heard, forced us to remain silent to hear him. Whether intentional or not, I made note of it.

Ellie pointed at a stone spire, now peeking over the tops of houses we were passing. "I think that's the Chantry. What are the odds that whoever's in charge is in there?"

_Great. _I suppressed a sigh and moved forward. "No bet."

If there is one thing in the whole of my journeys I've found curious, it's the fact that every Chantry I've ever been inside has been overflowing with wounded, impoverished, and generally desperate individuals in the wake of some catastrophe. If one is feeling uncharitable, this could be seen as proof of the Chantry's benevolence in the wake of the destruction I bring. The sad reality, however, is that the only competent healers I've encountered among the Chantry are their mages, restricted to living inside of a massive stone phallus. The only real benefit a Chantry offers is having stone walls instead of wood, as well as a great deal of furniture to pile against the doors in times of crisis. The money for this comes largely from Tranquil slave labor and the magical wonders they create, so the fact that zealous slavers have their church used as makeshift fortifications on a regular basis elicits little sympathy from me.

As for the destruction I bring… I will say that, whatever happens after I arrive, anything before that is _not _my fault. Usually.

I mention this, of course, because the Chantry at Redcliffe was all that and more. Easily the largest structure in the village proper, it was reinforced as if the priests expected an invasion. Wooden barricades lined the streets leading to it, with even thicker timbers arranged around a massive bonfire outside its doors. Many looked to be either freshly hewn or well worn, perhaps pulled from now empty houses, though all bore scars from blades, maces, and strange scratch marks that didn't match those of any beast I'd hunted. As we drew closer, we saw that the windows had been boarded, and the ironbound oak doors, pristine even in Lothering, were badly damaged.

It wasn't just wood and iron that guarded the Chantry. A burly man with a massive mustache moved to block us as we approached, joined by a dozen men that, despite being unarmored and unshaven, looked like they were very familiar with the swords at their sides. "And who in the hell are you supposed to be?" The man asked, his mustache wobbling as he spoke.

_A fair question. _I squared my shoulders and tried to wear my shirt like a uniform instead of a bloodstained rag. "I am Aegnor Mahariel of the Grey Wardens. With me are my fellow Wardens Alistair and Ellerina, our… retainers, and Captain Arratay of the Ash Warriors." I saw his eyes flicker with recognition at the mention of the Grey Wardens and Ash Warriors. _Thank the Creators Arratay decided to join us! His Ash Warriors keep us from looking like the ragged troupe we are. _I bulled ahead. "We are here to meet with Arl Eamon."

He grunted and folded his arms over his chest. "Let's say I believe you. You still won't see the Arl." He said it without any particular inflection, as if he was saying what the weather was.

My face hardened. "You would stand against us?" I asked, letting a hint of steel into my voice. My temper was fiery to begin with, and the thought of coming all this way and being turned back like beggars galled me in ways I can't begin to describe.

My mood was not helped when he laughed in my face. It was not a loud, booming laugh. It was quiet and rumbling. "Not a chance. Not unless you want to add to our problems."

My anger turned to confusion. "What do you mean?"

He swept a hand past the disheveled villagers behind him, watching us newcomers with fearful eyes. "Look at us. Last I checked, an Arl's subjects shouldn't look like that. We'd like a bloody word with the man too! First he was sick, and then…" His face darkened, and any traces of humor left him. "And then this happened. Look, if you want to know everything, talk to Bann Teagan in the Chantry. He'll be happy to talk to Grey Wardens and Ash Warriors and whoever else you brought with you." With that, he stepped aside and motioned for his men to do the same, allowing us to pass.

I raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

He shrugged. "If we end up fighting you, it doesn't matter if we win or lose. We wouldn't have enough men to survive the night. And I can't for the life of me think of a different way to explain an Elf leading a company of Ash Warriors, a giant, and the rest of you lot and wanting to talk to the Arl." He jerked his head. "Get going. Only a few hours before nightfall, and I plan on being ready."

Ellie gave a little bow to him. "Thank you, ser…?"

He raised an eyebrow at the courtesy. "Murdock. Mayor of Redcliffe, for what that's worth to you." He nodded to me. "I'd guess more than one mayor has driven away the Dalish with pitchforks and torches. I'm not one of them, but it didn't seem like the best introduction to start with. Grey Wardens make a pisser of an enemy when darkspawn and other monsters are about."

My estimation of him rose by several steps, both for his alacrity in letting us through and his knowledge of Dalish extending beyond superstition. I gave him a polite nod in return, and we proceeded to the Chantry.

The stink as the doors opened nearly staggered me, and I heard a similar reaction from my companions (_Yes, companions, and if you have a better word that you neglected to use in your books, Varric, then now is the time to share it. No? Shame.). _So many unwashed bodies in the same building made what was supposed to be a place of worship smell of fear and desperation. To human senses, I imagine it was palpable. To me, it was nearly overwhelming. I grit my teeth and pressed on.

Finding Bann Teagan was no great challenge. His clothes, though torn and bloodstained, marked him as nobility, as did the fine sword at his side. He was tall and well built, with chestnut hair and beard.

His tired eyes picked us out easily, distinct as we were from the smallfolk, and he moved to greet us. "Greetings, friends. I apologize, but Redcliffe's hospitality is much diminished of late. There is little for travelers to find here."

Alistair stepped to the forefront. "Surely you'll remember me, Teagan? Although the last time we met, I was covered in mud."

Teagan's eyebrows shot up. "Covered in- Alistair, is that you?" His face split into a wide grin. "You're alive! When I heard the news, I feared..."

I didn't let the silence linger. "There was more luck than I care to admit when we escaped, but we managed. The Blight hasn't beaten us yet."

Alistair scowled. "If it wasn't for Loghain, the Blight might have been defeated by now."

Teagan nodded in assent. "Loghain would have us believe that all Grey Wardens died at Ostagar, and they conspired to kill the king. A poor conspiracy, that sees all the conspirators killed." He considered us for a moment. "Enough about that. There is little to be done on that front. I imagine you're here to see my brother?"

"Yes." Alistair replied.

Teagan's mouth quirked into a grin. It did nothing to disguise the pain in his eyes. "I'm afraid that's going to be a problem."

"What? Why?" Alistair demanded.

Teagan did not answer immediately. The bustle around us continued. A wounded man moaned in pain as his bandages were changed. The soothing voice of the Revered Mother led a prayer. Children chased each other, desperate to distract themselves from the melancholy in the air. And yet in the center of it all stood Teagan, in fine clothes covered in more blood than any of our party's armor, alone. At last, he managed five words, words that I still lacked the strength to utter, to acknowledge what had happened to Tamlem.

"My brother Eamon is dead."


	17. Chapter 17: Actions of the Damned

_Redcliffe was, quite possibly, the most surreal experience of my life. Objectively, it was terrible. Everyone was scared, injured, desperate, exhausted, or a combination thereof. It smelled terrible, and the Chantry doubly so. Even the chaos of Ostagar smelled better. Even worse was the knowledge that, in a few short hours, I would have to risk my life again to rid Redcliffe Castle of its undead. _

_Despite that, I felt more liberated than I ever have. In this storm of chaos, death, and destruction, I wasn't a mage. I wasn't something to be feared, or locked up, or abhorred. I was a Grey Warden, looked to for aid, and trusted to help people. When Aegnor sent me to Owen the Blacksmith, I thought that Leliana would have to do the talking. But his worry, his anger, wasn't some unknowable thing to me. He just wanted his daughter back, and I promised him that I would get her back._

_It also made Leliana smile when I said that. _

**Aegnor**

As you can imagine, that development shifted our chances of success from slim to nonexistent. Eamon was beloved by his Arldom, was hailed as a war hero, and had enough political weight to challenge Loghain without destroying Ferelden's armies in a civil war. Without him, we had lost the core of our army and our protection, protection we sorely needed if we were going to approach the Circle of Magi for aid without being imprisoned or killed on sight. Supplies, a base of operations, a staging ground, a stronghold against the darkspawn... all of this and more was lost.

At the time, I grasped only a fraction of this, having trusted Ellie and Alistair on Eamon's value. I was worldly compared to most Dalish, but nothing in my life had given me two thoughts to rub together on the man, or any of the nobility for that matter. I dismissed the problem from my mind. If Teagan was Eamon's brother, then I assumed that he could just step up and fulfill the same role.

What _did _concern me were the undead.

* * *

My memory is hazy of the time immediately thereafter. I know I walked out of the Chantry rather quickly, as I could once again breathe in through my nose. I remember my companions attempting to get my attention, with little success. I had no ears for their words. All I remember was taking in Redcliffe village, trying to find some way to even the odds come nightfall. It was early afternoon, so we had some time to prepare. Even so, it took me about five seconds to realize that we had no hope of holding out another night. A stray corpse, untended by the exhausted villagers, lay at the shore, clad in rusted mail with a caved-in helm. If they could attack from both the main road and the shoreline, in the numbers Teagan had described, we would either be overrun or left in a state too wretched to be of any use.

_If we cannot defend... _I strode up to Murdock and clapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. "Murdock, I need everything you can give me. How many fighters do you have that can be made ready for battle?"

He started, caught of guard. "By nightfall?" He asked.

I was shaking my head before he was finished. "Two hours from now, well before those... _creatures... _are ready."

His mouth moved for a few moments, before he clamped his jaw shut and squared his shoulders. "No more than twenty, I'm afraid, and only four of those proper knights. The rest of them are either wounded or have equipment too damaged to be used. The only one who might be able to help with that is Owen, and he's locked himself in his smithy."

I grimaced. _That's not nearly enough. _"Is there anyone else? I'm not asking for upstanding citizens. Criminals, vagrants, anyone who's shut himself in the cellar."

His eyes unfocused as he thought about it. "There's a dwarf by the name of Dwyn. He and a few mercenaries barred the door to a house on the docks when it started and haven't come out since." He paused. "There's also an elf, a traveler, but he looks like he can handle himself. He's at the tavern."

_It's something, at least. _I forced a smile and inclined my head. "Thank you. We need all the help we can get." I turned to leave, before being struck by a thought. "One more thing. If you have any carpenters working on the barricades, have them make shields, large and thick enough to act as a roof against arrows. And if there are any wounded still strong enough to carry them, let them rest from what work they might be doing. They'll need their strength."

He looked at me with a mixture of bemusement and awe. "Are you going to tell me, at any point, what all of this is about?"

I smiled wider. "We're going to take back Redcliffe Castle."

* * *

"Why in the Maker's name would we _attack_?" Alistair demanded. "Last I checked, attacking a castle when outnumbered is the _opposite _of a good idea!"

I looked around at the rest of our companions while I pondered my answer. Sten alone seemed disinterested, but I could tell that even he was curious. I grumbled inwardly at the scrutiny, but I couldn't fault him. I was hardly a good example for following orders without question, and my status as the leader was based solely on my ability to provide a driving force. A driving force is useless if it drives you towards an inevitable demise, and everyone who had joined us had the wisdom to see that.

"We can't defend the village." I said carefully, gauging their reactions. "From what I can tell, they attack from both the castle and the lake. Defending the perimeter with thirty warriors, less than half of them trained..." I shook my head. "It's just not possible."

Sten grunted. "He is correct. Defending these people is fruitless." He leveled his gaze at me. "This does not explain why attacking is wise. We should leave, and seek aid elsewhere."

Morrigan smirked. "I myself see no benefit to fighting a hopeless battle. All we would gain is the gratitude of a ragged village, hardly the army we were promised."

I bristled at the taunt. "You're right!" I replied, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "All we would gain is the support of some peasants and their ramshackle village. It's not as if we could gain a valuable stronghold on our southern border, a rallying point for an army. It's not as if we could gain the support of Bann Teagan, brother to the late Arl, who might still get us the army we need. It would all. Be. A. Waste."

To her credit, she wasn't flustered. She simply scowled. "Fine! Such rewards are clearly worth fighting a battle we cannot win in the first place!"

"We don't know that." I countered. "And if we're going to have a chance in the Void of taking the castle, we'll need to act fast." I closed my eyes briefly, the beginnings of a plan forming. "Sten. Grab Arratay and his men. Recruit Dwyn and the elf traveler Murdock mentioned."

He frowned slightly, then gave the barest of nods. "It will be done. Know that I do not think this wise."

I smiled. "Thank you for your trust." I turned to Morrigan. "Morrigan, I need you to scout out the castle. I need to know how many undead there are, and what kind of defences we can expect."

She raised an eyebrow. "Again? Perhaps I should find you an owl to replace me! The only use you seem to have for me is as a bird." Nevertheless, she turned and strode away to find a hidden place to shapeshift.

"Ellie, Leliana, go see Owyn the blacksmith. Convince him to help us." Ellie glanced at Leliana and flushed. Leliana, for her part, smiled and got on with things.

It took a moment before Alistair realized that he alone was left. "Hey! What about me?"

I clapped him on the shoulder and jerked my head in the direction of the Chantry. "We're going to talk to Teagan and come up with an actual plan for storming the castle. He's been inside it recently, and you both have a better idea of how human castles are built than I do."

"Are you saying that you don't have a plan?" He asked incredulously.

I grimaced. "I know that the best way to end this is take the castle as quickly as possible, before the undead inside cause even more damage. Even if we had a week to go about this properly without them attacking, we can't expect the darkspawn to stay quiet in the south."

"You didn't answer my question."

I sighed. "No, I don't have a proper plan. But when the only other option is losing an entire Arldom's support, not to mention how many innocent people will be killed, I make due with what I have."

That seemed to mollify him. "So a royal bastard, the Bann of Rainesfere, and a Dalish Elf plot a siege inside a Chantry. It sounds like a bad joke, doesn't it?"

I chuckled. "The only worse joke is my manners. If I make through this Blight without someone calling for my head, I'll eat my boots."

* * *

It was at Redcliffe that my reputation as a madman first started. So am I one? My mind doesn't work properly in half of the stories, yet in the other half tell of me being level headed. The reality isn't so simple. For example, my treatment of the Grand Cleric was, at best, foolhardy. There was nothing to be gained by antagonizing her, and I risked execution by even speaking out of turn, yet I did so. Such action belongs to a madman, or a prideful Dalish Elf. Such are the decisions that make me doubt how fit I am to be a Grey Warden. At Redcliffe, however, my actions were borne of desperation. Wisdom acquired over thousands of years told Teagan, Alistair, Sten, and everyone else with a warrior's training that storming a castle was risky even when you outnumbered the defenders. Our only hope against such overwhelming odds was to weather the storm. This way of thinking is entirely correct, yet had we done so, we would have been destroyed.

Imagine, if you will, an Orlesian Master of Arms. They are precise enough with their weapons that they can split a blade of grass lengthwise. Their technique is perfect, refined over hundreds of years of combat with other humans, mounted and on foot. A dozen lesser warriors could be defeated by them with the simple ease of breathing. Yet, when fighting something beyond humans, like a dragon, they are helpless. Such foes defy the rules set by humans, no matter the skill of those who follow such rules. These foes require an entirely new approach, a way of fighting seldom seen, a way of fighting that bends or breaks every rule of combat. Such is the case when fighting dragons, and such was the case at Redcliffe. The only question, then, is how sane can one be when they not only pit themselves against such odds, they do so enough to understand how it's properly done? The only insight I can offer is that, in my experience, avoiding such odds is not a sign of weakness or cowardice, merely pragmatism or luck. Teagan, through no fault of his own, was facing these odds for the first time in his life. The same was true for me, but the Blademasters of the Vir Mi'sulahn, my forebears, have fought every threat to Elvhen since the Fall of Arlathan. I had made my peace with the cost of victory long ago, as any defeat for the Dalish may be what leads to our extinction.

It took an hour of arguing with Teagan to convince him that we needed to attack. I won't bore you with the details, save that Teagan, to his credit, remained civil throughout, and supported us wholeheartedly once he came around. Alistair was the deciding factor in the end. Teagan asked him directly if he trusted my instincts, and to my immense relief, he said that he did.

Sten and Arratay returned, having recruited Dwyn and his hired muscle. Arratay openly approved of attacking instead of defending, and said that he had a few tricks that to share. Leliana and Ellie were successful, and Owyn was hard at work repairing what he could in two hours. The rest would have to come from the Loot Cart. I had hoped to sell its contents at some point, but given the circumstances, it would pay for itself in the coming assault.

* * *

**Leliana**

Morrigan arrived not long after we started planning the assault. Ignoring the rest of us, she made her way to Aegnor. "There is little to be done, Warden." She said.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Why is that?" He asked.

She frowned. "Whatever force animating these undead is powerful. One hundred man the walls, at least, with more doubtless inside."

Teagan cursed. "We lack even half of that!"

Aegnor turned to face him. "Our chances were always slim." He said evenly. "Nothing has changed on that front."

Teagan's composure cracked for a moment, restored only by a meaningful cough from Alistair. He rested his head in his hands. "I know. It's just... _monstrous, _to think that those corpses are men and women I once knew. And my nephew... _Maker."_

Aegnor's face softened. "Abelas, Teagan. This has-"

Morrigan cut him off. "Twas not mere undead that present the problem."

Aegnor's teeth clenched. "Then what _does _present the problem?" He asked.

She ignored his agitation. "There are two among them that could only be animated by powerful demons. One arms itself with steel, the other with magic.

Ellie's eyes went wide. "_Andraste preserve us._" She whispered.

Aegnor's ears missed little. "Ellie? Do you know what they are?"

She flushed at being overheard. "Y-yes. A Revenant and an Arcane Horror would be my guess."

Aegnor frowned. "Explain, please." He said.

She hesitated, before drawing a breath and straightening. "The first recorded account of a Revenant in the Circle library was from 4:68 Black, written by Knight-Commander Beranor. According to him, a Revenant is to be feared even above Abominations. It is faster, stronger, and more durable than any human, and can draw foes towards itself through strength of magic alone. In the end, it took a dozen senior Templars to bring it down, and only two survived. The next account is from 5:71 Exalted, and agrees on how dangerous they are. This one wiped out the unit sent after it, and no mention is made as to how it was killed. It's entirely possible it got away. Some have been known to exist for centuries before being destroyed."

I don't know who among us was more surprised at the transformation from little girl to lecturer. That many words coming out of her, and the certainty in her voice, made us all stand up straighter and pay attention. Unfortunately for Aegnor, the knowledge of what we were up against struck us hard.

Incredibly, Aegnor was unfazed. "We'll deal with that once we get inside. I'd rather the portcullis stay intact, so we'll have to climb. Can anyone manage it?"

I could. So stunned was I by Ellie, and by the odds we faced, that I found myself speaking. "I can." All eyes turned to the Chantry Sister, and I realized that I had spoken out loud. "I can't open the gate myself, though." I said quickly.

Aegnor nodded. "Morrigan will clear the wall for us to climb up, and I'll open the portcullis with Arratay. I'll need the two of you to watch our backs." He spoke with iron in his voice, and Arratay's audible grunt of approval made it clear that there was no going back. He turned to Teagan. "The second I get it open, I need you to lead everyone through. Sten can be at the front to help push through the undead, but your people will follow you best. "

Alistair frowned. "Er, what about the big scary demon things? Now that we're inside, and all."

Aegnor smiled. "You'll be in charge of the Arcane Horror, Alistair."

He blanched. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Aegnor replied. "You've had Templar training, so you've got the best shot at taking it down. I'll deal with the Revenant."

"How?" Teagan asked, his voice full of concern. "If what's been said about them is true, we'd need a dozen of the Order's finest to bring it down. How can you say that you're up to the task?"

Aegnor shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, but spoke with an edge to his voice. "I'm the best warrior you've got. If I can't succeed here, then none of us will stand a chance against something as powerful as an Archdemon. If that's the case, fleeing to fight another day won't matter." He looked at each of us, challenging us to disagree. Some, like Morrigan and Sten, looked displeased, but neither voiced a complaint. That he could command their trust and respect, however grudging, spoke volumes.

I, however, was reeling. _Is this really our plan? _To attack with the simplest of strategies, and hope the conviction of our fearless leader would bring victory? A part of my mind began writing a ballad, while another wondered whether arrows would be of any use against undead.

Ellie broke me out of my reverie. "What about me, Aegnor?"

He paused, already halfway to the door of the Chantry, and gave her a gentle smile. "You know your strengths best, Ellie. Stay behind the front line, and if you see an opportunity, don't hold back."

She gaped at him. "Don't hold back?" She repeated, disbelieving.

He nodded. "I have a feeling you weren't showing us everything in the Korcari Wilds. But this is life or death. There's no holding back in fights like these." With that, he turned and strode to join Teagan and Arratay in the town center. I glanced at Ellie, once again a short girl out of place in boiled leather armor. The only difference was the wide, joyous smile, as beautiful as it was terrifying.


	18. Chapter 18: The Siege of Redcliffe

_Don't hold back._

_I had never heard those words spoken before. Not to me, not to any mage. Mages, I was taught, needed to hold themselves back from the world in every way, even in the most mundane of ways. We don't talk to normal people or, for that matter, see them. We don't know the seasons from one another, beyond the chill of the dormitories in winter and the sweltering heat of the cells in summer. Snow and sun are both denied to us. Even my magic, which has evolved into the deadliest battlemagic Thedas has ever seen, began as an exercise in control, to ensure that my power remained in check._

_Warriors might see this as strange. They, too, train all their lives for control over their weapons. Surely it is better to know where your weapon is at all times, and retain that same control? And better, too, to ensure that your edge alignment is just right to deliver that cut, that your form is ideal for that thrust so it might pierce mail as well as flesh. This is true in some ways, and it is a form of strength to the Circle who achieve that vaunted control. They are never in danger of overextending themselves, and the spells they have trained for look like they came out of a Tevinter Textbook. Magic, however, isn't like any weapon. It is limitless in its application. If your imagination can picture stone behaving as a flame, or lightning behaving as a sheet of ice, then you can make it happen. _

_How, then, can there be rules to magic, if all rules of this world can be broken? Put simply, there are no concrete rules to magic. Take, for example, the Cardinal Rule of Magic that states teleportation to be impossible. I can personally confirm that such a rule does not exist. Indeed, Tevinter magic users are well known, and feared, for their prowess in this area. There are, however, limiting factors surrounding teleportation that make it, and many other "impossible" acts of magic, highly impractical. The first is difficulty. Just as it isn't impossible to balance on one hand, it technically isn't impossible for a mage to learn teleportation. The time and effort required make it a curiosity in the south, and it is eschewed in favor of elemental or creation magic. The second limiting factor is power. With regards to teleportation, a Mage needs to provide the same amount of power as their body would expend traveling that distance, and for the movement to be near instantaneous, that power needs to be expended at an impractical rate, to the point that most mages would be killed moving themselves any more than 10 meters at a time. Blood Magic aids greatly with this problem, but the fact of the matter is that it would take more lyrium than Kinloch Hold requires in a year to teleport to another country, let alone across Thedas, and your body likely wouldn't survive the stress involved. Such I have been able to determine in my time outside of the Circle, but back in Redcliffe, while I knew that my magic had no limits, I still believed that _I _had limits that I should never push._

_And suddenly, with the sun on my face and the outside world all around, Aegnor told me "Don't hold back". I ask that you not blame him for this. He meant well._

Ellie's Journal, Page 472. Written as part of an unfinished autobiography.

**Aegnor**

Fifty-three.

On one hand, I was pleasantly surprised. We had expected thirty at best, but Teagan and I had underestimated the value of Grey Wardens and Ash Warriors on morale. Owyn mended armor and weapons at a rate I thought impossible, and the Loot Cart provided the rest. Ellie had taken it upon herself to heal some of the more treatable injuries as well, further swelling our ranks. Many tales tell of the speech given, sometimes by Teagan, sometimes by Alistair, sometimes even by myself, but such luxuries were overlooked. We simply didn't have the time. With the sun beginning to set, we marched towards Redcliffe Castle.

In front were our impromptu shield-bearers. Their shields were massive, rough-cut squares of Fereldan Pine, meant only to protect our small army from missiles. The men themselves were unarmored, and not counted among the combatants. We simply didn't have enough to equip them, and their various injuries prevented them from fighting properly. I stood behind them, next to Leliana, Arratay, and Morrigan.

Behind them were the Ash Warriors and Redcliffe's few remaining knights. Alistair and Ser Perth led them, one group clad in shining plate, the other in battered mail and splint. As different as they were, they were our best warriors, and would be needed at the front. Ellie, a full head shorter than most, stood among them. Some of the knights had dismissed her as unimportant, even after being told what she was capable of, and I was looking forward to them being proven wrong. Garahel was busy socializing with the Ash Warriors and their few remaining hounds. Dwyn and his warriors trailed behind them. Dwyn, an accomplished warrior, belonged there, whereas his thugs were expendable and wouldn't be missed.

Last came our levies. They made up a full half of our number, and while they were untrained, their grim faces spoke of the nights they had spent fighting against these monsters, and the vengeance they would have. Sturdy round shields and broad bladed swords had been found for them, as had mail and boiled leather. Sten stood at their front, a giant in steel plate. Not much helps morale more than knowing your friends are bigger than the enemy. I hadn't spoken with him, but Berwick, an elf  
"traveler", was back there as well.

Thus arranged, we began the assault.

A hail of arrows greeted us as we charged forward, halted by our shield-bearers. Those armed with shields lifted them up to ward the few that made it to the back ranks, while those in plate simply weathered them unperturbed. Ellie conjured stones and hurled them back at the undead manning the battlements, throwing them from the walls. More stepped up to replace them, and the volleys continued. Leliana managed a shot before I dragged her back behind the shield-bearers, and the dissatisfied look on her face told me all I needed to know.

"Nothing?" I asked. She shook her head angrily. "Well, that makes things more difficult." I said sourly. "They'll fight until they're in pieces, same as the ones I've fought."

Leliana scowled. "I won't be much use on the walls." She said. "If my arrows won't do anything, then my daggers won't either. Ellie gave me something to help, but she could only make one of them."

I nodded. "Try to throw them off the wall." I advised. "I doubt they'll stand up from a fall like that."

The next volley struck home, and this time I heard a scream from behind me, though I didn't recognize the voice. It wasn't for nothing, however, as our shield-bearers finally managed to reach the wall. "Morrigan, Arratay, are you ready?"

Arratay's grin stood out like a beacon on his bearded face. "You find some good fights, Warden! Just give the word." Morrigan, instead of responding, shifted into a crow and flew to the top of the wall with a caw. A blinding flash and the smell of ozone followed as she set about the undead with lightning. While her magic wasn't quite as controlled as Ellie's, she had raw power and instinct similar to my own with a blade.

Even so, she wouldn't be able to hold by herself for long. "Now!" I ducked out past the shields and launched myself at the wall. I had roughened the inside of my new gauntlets to better grip the stone, allowing me to clamber up the wall with ease. I had climbed many cliffs in my youth, both for fun and for exercise, so I expected to be the first to reach the top. Leliana surprised me by gliding up the walls with a practiced ease I had never seen equaled, reaching the top a full five seconds before myself. Arratay, clad in heavier armor and lacking the vigor of youth, lagged behind.

This, however, was no contest. Leliana waited for us at the top, and we all caught our breath. When they fired the next volley, we vaulted over the battlements into the space Morrigan had cleared for us. I didn't bother drawing my sword for the first that swung its bony fist at me, instead following my own advice and throwing it off the wall. It landed with a sickening crunch, and didn't move again. By the time the next approached me, I had my blade at the ready, and decapitated it. Arratay likewise brought down his opponent, and Leliana lashed out with a surprisingly forceful kick, propelling a fourth from the wall in an altogether more spectacular fashion than mine. Morrigan had frozen two others solid, blocking off the stairs to the courtyard. Undead set about trying to smash the impromptu barricade immediately, but fortunately for us those in the lead had only rusty swords instead of the vicious maces I saw used by others.

Despite our early success, the gate was unopened, and the gatehouse was swarming with undead. "Leliana, protect Morrigan! Morrigan, hit the gatehouse! Arratay, follow me!" Leliana managed to wrestle one of them off the wall, and a blast from Ellie cleared away another, giving Morrigan time to direct a bolt of lightning into the gatehouse. Their rusted weapons and armor conducted it, frying them and whatever power animated them, aided by how clustered the creatures were in the cramped space. More rushed in to replace them, but Arratay and I had already charged into the gap.

Arratay set about with his axe with zeal, and my hatred of the undead drove me to heights beyond what I'd experienced at Ostagar. One swung a mace towards my head. I stepped inside the strike and lopped my attacker in half. The next strikes were aimed at my high line, so I let my legs give out beneath me, avoiding them entirely. In a move impossible for any save the elves, I dug in with my left foot and pivoted, throwing myself back upright and using the momentum to strike down another. I felled a third with a bone-shattering punch, giving me enough space to move properly.

In many ways, it was similar to the fight in the Tower of Ishal. I was outnumbered heavily, with a single ally by my side, and the enemy would never retreat nor give us quarter. It was the differences that allowed us to succeed. None of the undead were powerful or intelligent enough to recognize the use in a shield, so none carried them. My strikes sheared through rotted flesh and bone with no attempt by them to defend themselves. More importantly, I was fresh, and I was fighting the one type of monster I hated most. I remembered well how they fought, how they died, and both my skill and stamina had improved greatly in the past month. What few strikes made it past my guard glanced off of my armor, doing nothing to slow me down.

Nearly two score had fallen before I realized that, however fast we could kill them, they could reinforce faster, and the companions I had left to cover our rear would be overwhelmed before we could make a dent. They simply weren't meant for a drawn out fight of attrition. I grit my teeth. _We need to clear out the room and keep them from getting in, but how? If Morrigan uses another lightning spell, it'll fry us too! _I batted away a rusty sword with my vambrace and struck down the owner. _Unless... _A plan began to form.

"Arratay! Follow me!" I shouted. I turned to Morrigan, fighting with Leliana to keep the door behind us clear. "MORRIGAN! LIGHTNING, NOW!" Knowing we had mere seconds before her spell would be ready, I sprinted towards the opposite gatehouse door, Arratay hot on my heels, the various undead too slow to stop us in time. I slammed the door behind us when Arratay was clear, listened for the crackle of lightning, then reopened it and ushered Arratay inside. Once more I slammed the door, this time barring it with several of the weapons dropped by the now smoking corpses. I could hear them battering against it, but gatehouse doors are sturdy things, and I doubted they would make it through any time soon.

"Morrigan! Leliana! Get inside and bar the door! Arratay and I will get the gate open." Gratefully, the two women retreated, bleeding from several small injuries, and barred their door as I had mine.

Arratay leaned on one of the winches with a wry smile on his face. "You realize you've shut us in, right?"

I grasped the other and shrugged. "If we don't open this gate, it won't matter whether we can retreat or not. Ready?"

"Ready."

The two of us heaved with all of our strength. For a brief, frightening moment, the rusted levers held, before giving way with a shriek. The counterweights dropped, lifting the portcullis. Even this small delay cost us, as I heard the undead on the wall resume shooting at our small army below. I hoped the shield-bearers knew their work, otherwise we'd lose a dozen good men before the hard part even started. On the positive end of things, Morrigan and Leliana managed to bind the few cuts they had accumulated. Arratay and I were blessedly unscathed, though our armor already showed signs of wear.

Morrigan looked like she was on her last legs. She hid it well, but the shaking in her hands and tight grip on her staff spoke of bone deep fatigue, likely due to the massive blasts of lightning she'd used to clear the wall and gatehouse. _Best if she got out of here. We don't have enough lyrium to keep her going_. "Morrigan, you've done your work brilliantly. We just need you to rejuvenate us before you retreat." My warden endurance, youth, and extreme fitness meant I had exceptional stamina, but Ostagar had taught me just how little that meant if I didn't rest and recover when I had the chance. Even if I didn't need rejuvination, Arratay and Leliana did, and after the intense fighting in the last few minutes I didn't think less of them for it.

It spoke to how tired Morrigan was that she didn't even protest. A wave of energy washed over the pair of us, easing our shaking muscles. "Tis done, Warden." She murmured, swaying. A flash of light filled the room as she turned into a crow once more.

The three of us drew our weapons and burst through the door to our right, knocking two of the creatures armed with bows off the wall. Morrigan flew out and away, dipping dangerously for a moment before gliding to safety. I looked out at the courtyard where a veritable horde of the creatures had gathered, threatening to surround even the militia holding the rear. Even as they were being overwhelmed, I looked on in pride at how well they were fighting. Sten was clearing out swathes with wide sweeps of his greatsword, remaining in motion until its momentum alone cleaved through limbs and torsos alike. Alistair fought alongside the Ash Warriors, rigid perhaps in his swordsmanship, but indomitable now that he was holding the line. Even as I watched I saw what Ellie meant by a Holy Smite, as a dozen of the foul creatures in front of Alistair were violently thrown off their feet. More rushed him, and were met with a blast of force that I felt in my bones. Powerful, competent strikes cut through them as they were checked, and those that recovered more quickly than their fellows were battered by his shield, as much a weapon as his sword. _I underestimated him. _I could still have beaten him in single combat, of that I had no doubt, but down there, in the thick of a battle line, he had transformed into a methodical fighter, taking minimal risks for maximum reward.

For my money, however, Ellie outstripped them all. Dozens of her Arcane Bolts whizzed around her at any one time. One shifted to stone and smashed through and undead skull before reverting back to its base state, while another shifted into a razor sharp blade of ice and sliced two in half. A cluster of undead clad in plate managed to force a gap in our line, felling two of the militia, before being driven back by a stream of white hot flames from Ellie's staff. Keening shrieks rose from withered throats as they were cooked in their armor. As they fell, they formed a floor of glowing metal and ash-coated bones, and even the largest of the undead avoided, so great was their fear of fire. A wave of bolts shifted to stone and smashed those nearest into the flames, creating an ever widening gap in the horde spilling from the castle. Despite the fury of her assault, she showed no signs of tiring, and Garahel tore apart any corpse that attempted to bring her down through physical means. Grinning, I sped forward and attacked, refusing to be outdone.

* * *

The three of us on the wall had nearly cleared a path to the stairs when I saw it. Eight feet tall and clad in twisted red plate, it dwarfed even Sten. Glowing red eyes met mine, and had it been able, I don't doubt that it would have smiled. The moment passed and it turned away from me, striding down the steps to the courtyard, greatsword in one hand, kite shield in the other. _Pride. _I had never encountered one at that point in my life, but the arrogance to stroll into a battlefield, completely at ease, made me certain even then that I faced the most deadly of all demons. More importantly, if I didn't find a way down to the courtyard soon, everyone else would face it first.

Seeing that Leliana and Arratay didn't need help, I turned and bellowed. "ELLIE!" She looked back at me, confused, until she followed my outstretched finger and saw what was approaching. Not waiting for her reply, I jumped, hand outstretched. For a brief, terrifying moment, it seemed like I would hit the ground some forty feet below. Then my hand wrapped around a sphere of conjured stone, and I held on as it sped towards the Revenant, fast enough to make my eyes water.

I can't speak to what went through that Pride Demon's mind in the next few seconds. There are many types of pride and arrogance that I'm loathe to forgive, but the arrogant certainty that one is safe from airborne elves isn't one of them. So it came to pass that I smashed into it's helmet, feet first, and knocked it into the stone steps by virtue of how top-heavy it was. Its cargo delivered, the conjured sphere winked out of existence, and I stood on the steps, sword drawn, glaring down at the Revenant's prone form. "I'm your opponent." I growled, settling into a low guard.

In response, it rose to its feet and chuckled. It sounded like a rockslide. _**"**_**_Prideful. Certain. A pity. Your mind would spawn many of my kind, had you a hope of survival."_**

I smirked. "Says the one with a Templar behind him."

_**"As if I hadn't heard that trick be-" **_Its words were cut off as twenty stone of steel, flesh, blond hair, and sarcasm crashed into it from behind. I felt my ears pop from the force of his smite, staggering even the Revenant. It growled and spun, backhanding Alistair with its shield. Even with his guard up, the blow lifted him off his feet and into the railing. The wood cracked but held, preventing him from falling to the flagstones below. As soon as its attention was diverted, I threw myself at its back, overbalancing it and smashing it into the steps for the second time. My hand found the edge of its helm, and with a violent pull I sent it bouncing down to the melee below, revealing a withered head covered in grey hair. It twisted, revealing a matching grey beard, and bared its teeth at Alistair.

Alistair blanched. "Eamon?" He whispered, naked shock on his face. In his confusion, his guard dropped and, while I didn't know it at the time, so did the mental focus shielding the both of us. A force that would have rattled an ogre struck Alistair, pushing him through the weakened railing, and sending him to the courtyard some twenty feet below. My blade, already in motion, descended towards its neck, only to be stopped by the same invisible force. It rose, levitating to its feet like a marionette pulled by its strings, landed lightly on its feet before I could react, forcing me to retreat. I kept my muscles slack, expecting it to keep using the same power as before, and was rewarded when, with nothing but a gesture, it pulled me forward off the steps. I pushed off, adding as much force as I could, and parried the blade meant to impale me. Still flying towards him, I twisted my blade to break the bind and aimed a cut at its head.

Against any other opponent, it would have worked. A Pride Demon, however, can animate its host to a level that far exceeds what it was capable of in life. It shifted away before my cut could land and lashed out with a kick, catching me in the ribs. I flew a good three feet before dropping like a stone sliding into the railing. Armored as I was, I managed to absorb most of the force, though it would still leave a large bruise. I regained my feet in time to parry what would have been a killing blow, and circled around again to the high ground. I kept close, taking advantage of my smaller size and shorter weapon to crowd it, but I had no answer to the massive shield on its left arm, and slowly but surely it forced me back up the steps, and every time I stepped back I risked giving up the initiative entirely. Bright scratches marred the twisted red armor, each one an attempt to find a weak point, but not even my ancestral blade could come close to making it through the Fade-warped plate. I managed to avoid its shield and circle right before landing a thrust behind the knee, but the joint was protected by sturdy red mail, and my curved blade was ill suited to piercing it. I tried for another cut at its head, but its first reflex when it lost sight of me was to protect the only place that was unarmored, and all I managed was another scratch on its shield. I thought it blinded with the shield covering its eyes and moved to try another angle when glowing red eyes, identical to the ones burning in its skull, opened on the surface of the shield, the metal twisting into what was undoubtedly a grin. My eyes widened as the greatsword thrust straight for my chest at an impossible angle. I leaned back and let my feet drop out from under me, confident I could still avoid it, before that same horrible force gripped me and pulled hard enough keep me upright and break my guard.

One of the hallmarks of Vir Mi'sulahn training is that it doesn't just focus on technique. Technique alone won't always save you, and neither will strength or speed. What is often needed is a focused mindset, where hesitation and fear is replaced with simple, decisive action. It takes a long time to achieve through training alone, and many great warriors are those that acquire it later in life. Dwarven berserkers rely on a similar mindset, albeit far more aggressive. It is this mindset, combined with mastery of the sword and extreme physical conditioning, that makes Blademasters of the Vir Mi'sulahn such implacable foes. If there is something that needs to be done to achieve victory, they will do it without question, and there are many times in Elven history that nothing less was required to save us from extinction.

I was not a Blademaster, not then. I lacked the sheer breadth of experience required. My father, a Blademaster in every sense, would have avoided the Revenants blade, and likely would have been fast enough to slay it earlier. As it was, I managed to shift my body, and the tip of the greatsword sank into my chest. With a wet squelch, it emerged through my back with enough force to split my mail like paper, and embedded itself in the stone. Pain exploded through me, beyond any I'd experienced in the waking realm, but my dreams were not so kind. I set my jaw, blood bubbling between my lips, and motioned for it to come closer. Prideful to the core, it obliged, relishing its victory.

**"_Any last words?"_**

I spit blood into its face. It chuckled again, like it had expected it, even seen it before. In response, I cleaved its head from its shoulders. Its massive form, now inanimate, dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, and the greatsword slipped from its grasp. I used what little strength I had left to untangle myself from its body, and watched as it clattered towards the courtyard for the last time. My vision grew hazy, and I knew better than to try removing the blade, so I lay back, tried to ignore the agony in my chest, and hoped we would win before I bled out.

* * *

**Leliana**

I admit that, when Aegnor jumped off the wall, I thought he'd lost his mind. "Warden!" I cried out, and from his telling we know he didn't hear me. He did survive, and I saw the Revenant he was intent on, which spurred me to worry about Arratay and myself. The Warden would have to wait.

"He's got some damn fool idea in his head, Sister!" Arratay said, obviously thinking along the same lines. "Nothing we can do for him now but keep going!" As he spoke, his axe kept moving, felling two more of the creatures. We were doing well, but Arratay was no longer a young man, and was tiring even after Morrigan's magic. The undead clogged the stairway, and we couldn't rely on Aegnor's luck to escape, nor leave so many enemies unchecked.

There was no better time for it, so I pulled out the spherical glass pot Ellie gave me and threw it at the thickest cluster of them as she'd advised, hoping that "kinetically induced spontaneous calcification" would help in some way.

I had expected fire or acid. I'd handled those types of grenades before, though I'd never bothered learning how to use them. This one was neither, yet was all the more effective for it. Half a dozen of them were coated in a fine layer of powder that glowed, spreading across their bodies into a single layer that hardened within seconds. Inevitably, their stances were off balance, so to my delight they fell backwards down the stairs and crushed most of the undead on the way down. None had the reaction to try and avoid a potential threat.

Arratay took a moment to catch his breath. I was young, and hadn't been swinging an axe around, so I strung my longbow once more and tried to find some way to help from a distance.

It was fortunate that I stayed where I was. Waves of frost began to buffet the men of Redcliffe, encrusting their shields with rime. Ellie was caught off guard and went to one knee, leaning heavily on her staff, and tried to drink a lyrium potion. The cork had frozen solid, and she had no time to do anything beyond keep herself from freezing.

From where I was, I could clearly see a slight figure in tattered robes, floating along the ground. It had hidden behind the other undead, and hadn't cast spells until now, so none of us thought it a threat. As I watched, three men of Redcliffe fell, both to the cold and to the undead to whom cold did not matter.

I knew arrows could not slay it. The tattered figure made wide, elaborate gestures with its hands as it cast, however, and I thought I could stop that. As fast as its limbs were moving, I had no hope of lining up a perfect shot, so instead I emptied my quiver. My back muscles burned, unused to strain beyond a practice range, but I grit my teeth and kept shooting. The first arrow struck it in the chest, a kill shot, were it alive. The next was rushed, and missed. Six more arrows sank into its head and chest before one caught its hand. The broad head, with all the force of a full longbow behind it, pushed its hand off its intended arc, and the flow of frost subsided briefly. Ellie regained her feet in that moment, melted the iced cork with a burst of flame, and downed the blue concoction. The next arrow that interrupted it gave her the instant needed to summon a firestorm to match the ice, and with staff raised she advanced on the Arcane Horror.

My arrows bought her time, time she sorely needed, but I ran out long before she was able to defeat it. Denied its favored frost, the Arcane Horror conjured more horrible magics, hexes and entropic curses that would have withered Ellie into dust. She conjured a glowing shield to repel them and countered with a flash of bright blue energy. Blue mist erupted from the ground beneath the Arcane Horror, and it shrieked in agony as it swept over it. It attempted another spell. Ellie slammed her staff into the ground and conjured a bolt of lightning, blasting it back. A gout of flame followed, setting fire to it, and its shriek then was the loudest yet. Ellie continued to advance on it, surrounded by a sea of fire, impassable to the undead. When she came within a few paces, she stopped. The flames faltered, and she let out a cry of anguish I could hear even from the wall, some fifty yards away. The flames returned, bathing the horror in fire, and this time the flames glowed blue. Within moments, all that was left of the Arcane Horror was a pile of ash. She turned to face the rest of the undead, and the same cry of anguish could be heard, nearly drowned out by the inferno.

Even in the midst of her grief, unknown to any save her, she kept control. The storm parted and became discrete orbs of flame, seeking out any of the undead that remained standing. Sten and Garahel had not been idle, and slew many even as the battle turned in our favor. Alistair, whom I'd lost track of in my focus on Ellie, fell upon the rear of the cluster that remained with a fury I didn't think he possessed, and scattered them with the strength of his smites. Arratay regained his strength and rejoined the fray.

That such a battle takes place near the beginning speaks of how terrible the Blight was, and how heroic we few who ended it had to be. With both of their champions slain, the undead still fought. Such was their curse, that the bodies of good people were now made to slay their kin. Tears streamed from a knight's eyes, as he struck down a corpse in matching armor, once a brother in arms, now nothing more than a monster to be put down. An Ash Warrior was dragged from our lines by withered hands and torn apart. I can hear his screams clearly even now. Arratay bellowed, claimed by his fury, and led the charge to avenge him. Sten and Alistair followed, and in a last, desperate rush, we brought the last of the creatures down. The grating moans, so constant I had forgotten them, ceased.

The silence was deafening. For a long, terrifying moment, it sounded as if everything had stopped, and would not start again. It was with sadness and relief that I heard Ellie sobbing, breaking the silence. Ellie's sobs trailed off, and were replaced by others, fueled by the grief of those who had lost friends and family, and the cries of those who lay wounded on the stones. Ellie ignored them and made her way to the bloodstained steps. One by one, we few companions followed, to behold the body of The Warden. We were a somber gathering, but none of us had known him well enough to weep at his passing. Morrigan flew down and changed to her human form to join us. She still seemed pale, but strangest of all was the look of disappointment on her face.

Ellie had known him longest, so we stood back and let her approach first. Her sobs had stopped, though tears were still wet on her cheeks. She gripped the greatsword stuck in his chest and pulled it out. It stuck briefly, stuck in the steps below, but it eventually gave way, more by virtue of the enchanted blade than her own strength. She left it to clatter down to the courtyard, stopped only by Sten who, hefting it with an unreadable expression, kept it. Ellie didn't notice. Instead, she uncorked a lyrium potion. Half of it she drank, and the other half she poured directly on the wound.

Alistair stepped forward. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Letting him heal himself." She replied. That brought him up short. We few glanced at each other, unsure of how to tell her that he was dead. Before any of us made the attempt, she slammed her staff into the ground with both hands and said an incantation. A nimbus of energy entered his body, and the lyrium in the wound glowed brightly for a moment, too brightly to look at. Every one of us was stunned when the wound began to heal, until until only scar tissue was left. Aegnor's eyes popped open, unnaturally wide even for an elf's, and he sucked in a shuddering breath.

Alistair cursed and staggered back. "Maker's breath! How did you know? He wasn't even breathing!"

She sighed. "You all saw how he made it to the courtyard with my help?" Alistair and I nodded, while Sten and Morrigan stayed silent. "I didn't help him. He did it on his own."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's a mage." She replied, looking down at Aegnor with a look of utter confusion. "And I don't know how in the Void it's taken seventeen years to surface."

* * *

**Been a while since I posted! Figured I'd post a double length chapter to make it up to you guys. I'll probably have to go back and edit it a bit, but for now, enjoy!**


	19. Chapter 19: The Inquisition's Gambit

_Some accounts tell of how Aegnor hid his status as a mage since childhood, waiting until he could take control of Ferelden with Blood Magic and other foul sorcery learned from the Dalish. While Aegnor is an unparalleled Blood Mage, and has much influence in Ferelden, I can safely say that he does not control Ferelden, magically or otherwise. As to his status as a mage, I will discuss that at a later time. Suffice to say, he is a mage, and the circumstances surrounding it are private. _

_The subject of Blood Magic and control, however, is one I can speak freely on. Blood Magic, as we call it, actually contains two distinct forms of magic. The first, more easily explained form is true Blood Magic, where a mage both draws power from, and injects power into, blood. This is the Blood Magic spoken of in old tales of human sacrifice and making entire armies dance like puppets before expiring. Drawing power from blood doesn't technically require bloodletting, but it does require direct contact, which makes bloodletting the favored method. Additionally, drawing power from "kills" blood, which means that while a blood mage can draw power from their own blood without killing themselves, doing so to any significant degree would dilute the mage's blood of life until they expired. Injecting power into someone else's blood is the means by which paralysis, control, and even death can be achieved, and does not require direct contact. However, this requires that you inject enough power to override a person's control of their body. Most mages do not have enough mana to make it practical, so drawing power from one's own blood is almost always required._

_The second form of Blood Magic doesn't involve blood, ironically, but has become so associated that one must discuss it. Mind reading, manipulation, and control have long been hallmarks of how Blood Magic is evil, as it enables mages to enthrall man and "rule over him". While we disagree in many respects, I do not begrudge the Chantry their fear of what is rightly considered dangerous. It does have its uses. For example, Aegnor used it to great effect when rooting out traitors, because while Templars and strong-willed individuals can resist control or manipulation, none save The Tranquil can sever themselves from the Fade so completely as to hide their thoughts. The Chantry called for his head when word of what transpired reached Val Royeaux. Aegnor's response caused them to rescind the proclamation, and haven't spoken of him to this day._

_Ellie's Journal, Page 43. The page detailing Aegnor's response appears to have been ripped out._

Aegnor winced. "I'd almost forgotten how... _fragile _I used to be." He rubbed his chest ruefully.

Varric cocked an eyebrow. "I don't care how tough you are, Wildfire, a sword through the chest is enough to put anyone down. Or do you expect me to believe that you're different now?"

Aegnor laughed. "I'm not going to prove it, if that's what you're asking. Pray that, before this is over, I don't have to put it to the test again." His ears twitched. He glanced at Leliana. "Not to be abrupt, but it looks like we'll have to cut this session short."

She frowned. "Why? I have many matters to attend to, but I doubt you care about those."

He shrugged. "Cassandra has loud footsteps. She'll open that door in about ten seconds."

Varric gave Aegnor a speculative look. "I'll trade you my seat on the Merchant's Guild if you tell me how you do that."

Aegnor grinned. "That's a shit trade and you know it. Now hush and look busy." By the time Cassandra opened the door, the three of them were hunched over Varric's stack of pages. Aegnor and Leliana bickered, though it was abundantly clear that Leliana wasn't acting as she shot barbs at him, and Varric looked up at the two of them in discomfort. When he turned to see Cassandra in the doorway, he almost glad she was there. Aegnor was quick to address her. "Seeker Cassandra. What can we do for you?"

"The Herald has asked that the War Council convene." She replied. "He's hoping we can decide on a course of action this time."

Leliana nodded, and moved to leave. "Of course. Warden, Varric, I may be gone for some time. You may continue without me."

Cassandra frowned. "It is not just you who is needed." She turned to Aegnor. "The Herald has requested that you join us. I do not know why, so do not ask."

Aegnor's eyebrows shot up. "And here I thought everyone here hated me." He said, surprised.

Cassandra eyed him warily. "Hate may be too strong a word. Mistrust? You are unpredictable, Warden, and all that I've spoken to say that you accept no authority but your own." She sighed. "But, your presence is requested, and there may be some aid you can offer."

Leliana looked angry enough chew nails, and for a moment it appeared she would give voice to it. Instead, she set her jaw and nodded. "Of course."

Aegnor stood up and turned, before turning to Varric. "No need to wait for me." He said sheepishly. "I imagine you have your own affairs that need to be looked after."

Varric waved him away. "I do, but this is worth it, and we were never going to finish before we had to deal with the people wearing skirts."

Aegnor grinned. "True enough, Master Tethras. True enough."

* * *

The Herald looked up as they entered. "Excellent. We can begin." He clasped his hands behind his back, and Aegnor cocked his head, wondering for the thousandth time if he had made a mistake when he chose the Inquisition.

Ian Trevelyan was tall and broad, topping even Cullen in height. Bright blue eyes shone from beneath a head of curly brown hair. When combined with his shaved face, it made him appear even more youthful, though he had long since passed his twentieth year. His eyes, however, were keen, and belied a mind both intelligent and educated. Even his armor, gilt and crafted to resemble dragon's scales, was something he wore well. A sword and dagger, similarly gilt and decorated, were belted at his waist, and the calluses on his hands spoke of a man who did not neglect his training.

More than that, he was one of the faithful. Devout, even. Not to men, or the Chantry, but to the ideals in the Chant of Light. Much like Alistair, it had been a twist of fate that saved him from his vows and lyrium addiction, and he was well aware what the Chantry would do in the name the Maker. Most importantly of all, he had been the one to suggest recruiting the Mages instead of the Templars.

Aegnor smiled inwardly. _No. In this, at least, I am not mistaken. _Outwardly, he inclined his head. "My thanks, Herald, for your invitation. I admit, I had not expected this, given my reputation."

Trevelyan returned the gesture. "Whatever your reputation, you slew the Archdemon and ended the Blight." He replied. "The Breach is an even greater threat, and we lack even the treaties of the Grey Wardens to compel others to combat it. If we're going to go up against such odds, your aid may not just be desirable, but necessary."

"You flatter me."

Trevelyan gave him a piercing look, again reminding him that this man was not only intelligent, he was cunning. "I think not, Warden. You and the Warden Commander are known even in the Free Marches as both powerful mages and seekers of forgotten lore. Both will be required in the coming months."

Aegnor's reply died in his throat at the mention of Ellie. Leliana paled and looked away, as affected as he was. The silence stretched on until Cullen cleared his throat. "In any event, we should start the meeting."

Josephine smiled, relieved. "Thank you, Commander. Let us begin. I believe the Herald wished to approach the mages?"

Trevelyan nodded. "I did. Skilled Templars are not easily found, but skilled mages are nearly impossible with the war. If we want any group of mages beyond what Vivienne has brought to the table, it will have to be Redcliffe."

Leliana nodded, her color returning. "I agree. I've seen what powerful mages can do. If anyone can close the Breach, it's them."

Cullen frowned. "I still think we should approach the Templars. I know what they're capable of, and them weakening the Breach is less risky than throwing more magic at it."

"The mages will also present political challenges." Josephine added. "The Templars are respected, even now. When word gets out that we're harboring that many mages, it may lose us allies."

Aegnor crossed his arms. "The Templars are a none option. Since they lost Chantry lyrium, they've turned to another kind." He looked Cullen in the eye. "Red lyrium. Just like what corrupted Meredith."

Cullen cursed. "You waited until NOW to tell us this?" He demanded.

"No." He replied calmly. "I informed Leliana last night. I only waited that long to make sure that the Inquisition was the right decision. For the record, I think it is."

Cullen turned to Leliana, who nodded. "He did. I wasn't sure whether to believe him."

Aegnor frowned slightly. "Believe me, if I could have brought more Templars into the fold, I would have. I have a few dozen under my command at Vigils Keep, not enough to close the Breach. All others were either too zealous, corrupted, or just plain distasteful to do anything but put them down."

"I believe him on that account." Trevelyan said grimly. "I wouldn't have trusted the ones we found in the Hinterlands as far as Varric could throw them."

Cullen scowled. "From your reports, the mages were no different. We wish to recruit those who have managed to stay out of the fighting, not those who revel in it."

Aegnor shook his head. "The mages erred when they joined the Tevinter Imperium, but I've scouted out Therinfal Redoubt. I sensed enough red lyrium that not even I dared to cleanse it."

Leliana raised an eyebrow. "It's never stopped you before." She said archly.

"There were dozens of nobles and their courtiers camped outside when last I was there." He replied. "If I destroyed the castle, they would be wiped out in the process. I erred on the side of caution, seeing as killing influential nobles might make Josephine's job more difficult."

Cullen scoffed. "I don't care how powerful a mage you are, even you couldn't level a castle full of Templars."

Aegnor cocked his head. "There were Templars on guard in the Kirkwall Chantry. Anders destroyed in all the same." He smiled apologetically. "A hundred Templars are as helpless as a hundred priests if they're caught off guard."

Cullen looked to Leliana for support. He found none. "He is not lying. Destroying Therinfal Redoubt is within his power, Templars or no."

"And Redcliffe?"

Aegnor steepled his fingers, thoughtful. "Templars can be surprised, but Tevinter Magisters craft the best defenses against magic in Thedas. If they didn't, other Magisters would destroy them." He frowned. "This Alexius is one of the most skilled I've encountered. His wards have been inscribed in the very foundations, which makes breaking down the gate nearly impossible. It's been reinforced magically, and anyone trying to break it down will have a few hundred mages raining fire on their heads."

Leliana nodded. "We can't take it the same way we did before. But unless we take it, we will have a powerful enemy on our doorstep."

Trevelyan smiled. "What if we could get Aegnor inside?"

Aegnor snorted. "Me and Leliana could clear out Alexius and his cronies. Add a few of your exceptionally deadly associates, and we'll have the castle inside five minutes."

Josephine's expression fell. "You mean to accept their invitation, don't you?"

Trevelyan's smile turned into a wide grin. "It's poetic, if nothing else. And it will give us a chance to speak and get Fiona's support. Without the rebel mages, Alexius doesn't have the manpower to resist us, especially once we're inside."

"It is still too dangerous." Cassandra declared, speaking up for the first time. "That mage, Dorian, spoke of time magic being used. I have encountered many forms of magic as a Seeker, yet I do not know how to guard against this."

Aegnor huffed. "The Seeker has a point. I'm familiar with the theory, but as far as I'm aware the only one who has ever done it successfully is Alexius."

Trevelyan's smile remained. "Maybe, but I've managed to find the next best thing." The door opened on cue, revealing the most flagrant mage Aegnor had ever seen. Where Vivienne could have passed for a noblewoman, no one could mistake the Tevinter Chantry amulet hanging around his neck, the lyrium engravings on the staff he carried openly, and his cloth was both rich and foreign, daring anyone in the room to look at him. His well trimmed mustache complimented the image quite well, Aegnor thought.

A cocky smile appeared as he drank in their surprise as he swept in. "Hello again, Herald, good to see you. Ah! Cassandra is here as well. Excellent!"

Aegnor raised an eyebrow. "You have us at a disadvantage."

"Of course, where are my manners?" He swept into a bow. "Dorian Pavus, at your service! I helped Alexius develop the time magic which has become such a problem. Then he decided to give the tales about Tevinter weight and set about abusing it, so here I am, happy to help."

Trevelyan smiled at that. "We met him in Redcliffe. He's proven his knowledge of time magic, and he helped us seal a rift. We can trust him."

Aegnor shook his head in wonder. "You are either the most unusual spy I've ever met, or exactly what you say you are, and I've no idea which is more likely."

Dorian's grin wavered. "I am no spy, I assure you. Whatever business Alexius has with summoning demons and allying with cultists, I want no part of it, and I'd rather he be stopped before Tevinter is responsible for _another _unsolvable catastrophe."

Trevelyan nodded. "Trust me, Warden. He's genuine."

Aegnor met Dorian's eyes briefly. The tension in the air became palpable, unnaturally so, before Aegnor relaxed. "Very well. I believe you." Tevinter mages were dangerous, but not even they had found a way to fool him.

Cassandra frowned. "What did you do just now, Warden?"

Cullen nodded. "I felt something too."

Aegnor shrugged. "It happens when I'm surprised. My apologies. I hadn't expected someone else would be invited, much less a Tevinter mage." It was true, he had been surprised, but his control was fine. Casting a spell would have been obvious, but by bending his will he could detect someone's emotions. Still detectable by a Seeker or Templar, but far less suspicious than a spell targeting someone's thoughts. That brief glance had been all he needed. There was no deception or malice in Dorian's words.

Dorian looked taken aback. "That is some loss of control. Did you never receive formal training?"

Aegnor paused. "I did, but not initially." He replied, weighing his words carefully. "I'd used it for dozens of small things unconsciously. None of them involve summoning demons or burning down buildings. You needn't worry about that." He clapped his hands together. "Back to the matter at hand. Unless anyone has something else to add, I think we have a plan. We use Alexius' invitation to get inside. We convert Fiona, take care of what cultists are there, and Dorian can help counter any time magic Alexius has prepared for us. It has risks, but so did slaying the Archdemon, and this plan doesn't involve fighting a god. Are we in agreement?"

Leliana nodded reluctantly. "I can't think of anything to add. I agree with the Warden."

Trevelyan sighed with relief. "Thank the Maker. I was afraid you'd dismiss Dorian out of hand."

Aegnor grinned. "In all my years, when have I dismissed _anyone _out of hand?"

"I heard some things about you and the Grand Cleric..."

"Fenhedis lasa! Fine, anyone who didn't deserve it."

Trevelyan smiled back. "Fine. If it still needs to be said, I support this plan fully."

Josephine looked at Cullen. "Diplomatically, there is little I can add, save that we should see that Arl Teagan gets his Arldom back."

Cullen glanced up at the faces around him, expectant, and dropped his gaze. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Fine. I'll support this venture. Maker have mercy on us."

Dorian's smile returned. "Now that didn't take too long! Just as well. We may be running out of time, but Alexius isn't."

* * *

Dorian's words were jovial, but everyone present took them to heart. Within an hour, a procession had been formed. Josephine and Cullen would remain, more than capable of keeping things running, while Leliana and Cassandra would join the Herald. The Herald's companions were called on as well, and Aegnor felt himself growing nostalgic for the Blight, when he'd had a similar group. Of that group, only Leliana was present, and she hated him. _It wasn't always this way. _He pushed down the thought and approached her.

"What is it, Warden?"

He considered his next words carefully. "You and I are both known in the Imperium. If Alexius has any sense, if he hears that The Warden and The Nightingale are seeking entrance, he'll keep the gate firmly shut."

She frowned. "Have I really become so well known?"

Aegnor paused. "Perhaps not, but during the Blight and the Thaw you were far less discreet. As I recall, the both of us have tangled with many a Tevinter before we learned discretion."

She nodded reluctantly. "Yes. You are right." The words sounded as if they pained her, and she fixed him with a glare. "I assume you have a plan."

"I do." He replied. "An illusion. Alexius is no doubt aware of the unusual allies Trevelyan has made, so two faces unknown to him and his guards are unlikely to arouse suspicion."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You claim he warded Redcliffe. Did he just happen to neglect illusions?"

"You've been paying attention." He replied. "He did, but cast illusions and illusion enchantments are two different things. A cast illusion is created by drawing power from the Fade temporarily, and the connection can be broken by even a simple ward. An illusion enchantment has been fixed by lyrium folded into an object, and permanently links it to the Fade. No ward, however powerful, can break even simple enchantments. It's the difference between severing a string and severing a bar of steel." With that, he pulled out his own helm, put it on, and pressed a small rune on the side. It glowed, and when he opened his faceplate, it revealed an elf, but one different in many ways. This elf had no vallaslin, his eyes were hazel, and his hair was a deep auburn instead of bright red. His features were subtly different as well, less exotic and more familiar, closer to a city elf. "See? An unusual knight, instead of the most famous man in Thedas."

Leliana blinked, her mind refusing to associate his voice with the new face. "You have one for me?" In response, he tossed her a light leather cap, reinforced with steel bands. With not even a nasal guard, it was perfect for an archer. She pulled down her hood and put it on. His expression told her that it had worked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that her hair had become blonde, though her face she couldn't see. Looking down, she likewise saw that her uniform's appearance had been replaced with that of an Orlesian officer. "You knew we would choose the Mages, didn't you? You had everything prepared."

"I didn't know." He said. "But any fool could see that the Templars, whatever value they may have had as an order, are lost. Their fate in this Age was sealed the moment Red Lyrium surfaced. I simply had to trust that the Inquisition would abhor it as much as I do."

She scoffed. "You haven't changed. You may think you're in the right, but you still use people. It's all just a game to you." With that, she turned on her heel and joined the procession. "Thank you for your help."

He watched her go, regret mingling with relief. _You're right, Leliana, and I wish that you weren't. Would that things were different. Would that I was gone, and Ellie here. Would that I didn't need to play your Inquisition like an instrument. _He allowed his melancholy to linger for a moment longer, before steeling himself and striding after her. _I have changed, however. It's been a long time since I've had fears like I do now, with so many question unanswered. This is not a game to me, not anymore. _

_Whatever our wishes,__ Ellie isn't here__, and those you've gathered have not the strength to bring you victory. It is in their power to combat armies, ferret out secrets, ally with nations, and even unite the faithful. What then? What happens when a monster, too mighty for you to stop and too subtle to be known, sweeps away all that you have wrought? Would you fail, rather than turn to me? Would you die faithful, rather than trust one who has saved priests even as he reviled them? Would you combat evil, as you always have, without The Warden or The Hero of Fereldan standing beside you?_

_Do you truly think Ellie left you behind, without making her best friend promise to look after you?_

* * *

**There we are! This was supposed to be the 20th chapter, but The Battle of Redcliffe was one mega-chapter to reward you guys for being so patient. To make a couple things clear, the telling of The Blight will continue, though I won't say in what form, or who will be telling it. I also realize that there are a lot of noodle incident piling up, and I promise that each and every one of them will get explained to some degree.**

**Second, to reiterate, magic in Dragon Age is weird. Like, really weird. So weird that they break their own Cardinal Rules of Magic so blatantly that Brandon Sanderson would vomit (No teleportation = every asshole except you can teleport. Healing magic being common = no one has it, but we have barriers now for some reason, which would've been REALLY helpful for my mage against the Archdemon). My own headcanon is mostly Dragon Age: Origins based, with the distinct schools of magic and other, "wild" magic that does more fantastic things, like the creation of Witherfang and the curse of Lycanthropy, or cursing the two brothers in Awakening to become sentient statues for all time. It's hard to keep concrete rules in this setting, particularly given the nature of magic (all magic is drawn from the Fade, the realm of dreams and emotion, so by definition magic is limited only by a mage's imagination, power, and ability to bring both to bear without killing themselves), so it'll likely be governed by what makes sense to me at the time. **

**Finally, to answer a question by Blunderbore from a long-ass time ago(Sorry! It didn't occur to me that people might have PMed me until now!), Ellie will appear in the Inquisition timeline. After two years of putting up with me being coy about it, I figured it was time to be transparent for once. Also, the more genre savvy of you have no doubt guessed that there was no way I was dropping so many hints without having some form of payoff. **

**With that teaser, it's time to guess how and when! Leave a review with your guess for Ellie's return, as well as anything you liked and didn't like. **


	20. Chapter 20: The Removal of Aegnor

_It is no accident that I'm the only one that trusts Aegnor completely. After all, I am the only one who has been there with him, every step of the way. I'm the only one he trusts enough to tell everything, and I cannot fault him for that. Alistair is a good man, and a good friend to both of us, but he has become a king, and kings cannot condone what he has done, in defiance of all southern laws. Sten respects him, but his loyalty is to his people, and both know that should the Qunari invade while Aegnor is alive, they will be enemies. Wynne is out of the question, Morrigan and Zevran left for parts unknown, and Oghren... Oghren has enough on his mind. Even Leliana, my wife, has too much faith to ignore what he and I must do. I love her dearly, more than life itself, and it pains me more than anything to keep secrets from her. _

_So we work in the shadows, he and I. We averted the sixth Blight twice, with no small effort. We tracked down a darkspawn similar to the Architect, and brought an end to him. Preventing wars, thwarting assassinations, tracking down ancient ruins and lore before they can be spoiled or destroyed, and dozens of other activities too tiresome to list have occupied our time. Each time, I promise myself it will be the last. I will step down as Warden-Commander and find a quiet place to live with Leliana, to leave all of the pain and death behind us. We are alike in that way. She finds no joy in it anymore, and I never did. Still, she serves Justinia, because she feels she owes her a debt. I would tear that notion to shreds, had I not the same compulsion to help Aegnor._

_He asks for my help, and I grant it, because his work has become more and more taxing. I can see the strain on him, and it frightens me. Not that he will break, not that harming me would enter his darkest thoughts, but the notion that anything could take such a toll on him anymore. He's not like me, or Leliana. He revels in it. The adventures, the battles, testing himself against all the world has to offer and being secure in the knowledge that it's for a greater purpose, even if only he and I know it. For him to ask for my help and still feel such pressure speaks of how grave the situation is. _

_And it is grave. I've started to put the pieces together, in what little time I have, and a pattern has emerged. Someone, or something, is trying to tear apart Southern Thedas. The Anderfels, Tevinter, Seheron and Par Vollen, none of them have been touched. It cannot be a coincidence, nor do I think it a coincidence that Kirkwall is the epicenter. The blood of slaves flowed like a river there for hundreds of years, and the quarries they dug constructed the channels it would run in. The city's layout is one massive rune, charged with enough power to rend the Veil asunder. Demonic possession, Templar corruption, and blood magic are far more common there than anywhere else in Thedas, which indicates that the Veil is already weakened, even more so than at Soldier's Peak. Worse, Anders and Justice have resurfaced, as one being. Were they drawn to the thin Veil, even unconsciously? Are all abominations? Is that why Kirkwall sees so many of them? _

_Once I am certain of what action to take, I will tell Aegnor, and we will bring an end to it all. We will strengthen the Veil, erase the runes in the stonework, and infuse our new barrier with enough lyrium to make the Dwarves envious. It will be my last labor. Once it is over, I will tell Aegnor, and with the epicenter removed from the equation, he will no longer need my help. He will keep us safe, as he always has. _

_I have long debated going alone, to act now, but Aegnor has yet to return, and won't for some time. In the end, Oghren convinced me to wait for him, though I made sure he was too drunk to remember what we'd spoken about come morning. The wisdom of a drunk is a strange thing, but Oghren's has never let us down, and I have time yet. So long as nothing forces my hand, Kirkwall can wait until Aegnor can join me._

_Ellie's Journal, Page 845, the second-to-last entry. Dated three days before Anders destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry_

Aegnor reread the passage for the hundredth time, looking for some clue that he might have missed. He felt blind. _How did Ellie do it? How did she see through so much, and know where it all stemmed from?_ He didn't know. He doubted he would ever know. He closed the tattered journal and closed his eyes, defeated. _Ellie must have known who or what was behind it all. She must have figured it out. Here I am, too slow to see it. _He knew his strength. He knew of no being that could challenge him, save those that slumbered beneath the earth, or those that lay dormant in the dark reaches of the Fade. The same was true for Ellie.

He remembered the day clearly. An abomination, more powerful than any he'd encountered in years, had left a trail of destruction in its wake as it moved through Western Orlais. Were he not banished, he would have thought Gaxkang had found a new host, but both he and Xebenkeck were accounted for. Imshael hadn't been spotted in centuries, which meant it could only have been the Formless One or a Pride Demon of immense power, likely fueled by Val Royeaux's nobility. Dangerous enemies both, with a potent source of strong emotion to feed on, but he'd fought their like before. He'd made good time, and had almost overtaken it when Ellie's mind struck his.

Pure, animal terror had gripped her. So great was her desperation that she'd nearly blasted his sense of self into the Void, never to be seen again. All he could hear was her screaming inside of his head, begging for help. She barely managed to tell him where before her mind winked out, as if snuffed like a candle. Ice had filled his veins. He'd seen her beaten, bruised, stabbed, shot full of arrows, and hit with spells that even he didn't dare attempt, and never had she screamed like he had heard. Never had he heard her so terrified. Her time in the tower was the terror that gripped her, and even the horrors of the Blight could not exceed them. Worse was the way her mind had disappeared. He only knew of two ways that could happen, and he dared not dwell on either.

_I was right, too. Of all the things to be certain of, that cut deepest. Yet for all the lore I have uncovered, there is no sign of what could have done that to her. _He closed his eyes and let his head thud back against the tree behind him. _Creators damn me. I've already failed. What remains to be seen is how badly._

"Something on your mind?" Aegnor's eyes snapped open, breaking him out of his reverie. Trevelyan stood at a polite distance, his expression pleasant.

Aegnor sighed. "Too much. For the first time, I find myself wondering if the world would be better if it burned and was rebuilt, instead of me holding the pieces together a little longer."

Trevelyan's eyebrows shot up. "You would burn the world because it is easier?"

Aegnor gave him a baleful look. "I've worked for a decade to keep everything from falling apart. Once I had help, and a clear reason for doing so. Now I have neither."

Trevelyan considered him for a long moment, then sat down next to him. "I imagine the Chantry's actions haven't helped with this issue."

Aegnor grunted. "If Anders were alive, I'd let him tell you what he thinks of it. He and I agreed on much. I doubt you came for a sermon, however."

Trevelyan chuckled. "Fair enough. I came to ask you a question."

"I'm listening."

Trevelyan smiled. "Why are you here?"

Aegnor cocked an eyebrow. "You know why. The Breach needs to be closed, and that mark on your hand is the one thing that can do it."

Trevelyan shook his head. "No, that's the reason that everyone believes. They believe it because it's the same reason they joined. You're not here for that, though. Nor do you believe that I am the Herald of Andraste. You're not here for money, power, fame, or glory, because you have all of those already. So why are you here?"

Aegnor considered lying to him. He considered keeping everything close to his chest, not trusting anyone, as he had done for years. As he did so, something broke in him. Before he changed his mind, he decided to tell the truth, this once. "Can you keep a secret?"

Trevelyan nodded. "I swear on your gods and the Maker."

Aegnor smiled sadly. "I'm here for her."

"Her?"

Aegnor pointed to Leliana, who was pitching her tent as far away from him as possible. "I lost my best friend. It hurts almost as much as losing my father did. But she lost her wife, and she didn't get to say goodbye. I can't imagine how much feels."

Trevelyan frowned. "You think you can console her?"

Aegnor sighed. "No. That I'm here and Ellie isn't is the cruelest joke your Maker could have played on her. Perhaps if I'd returned, right after she'd disappeared, we might have grieved together. I chose to pursue those that took her away from us, at the cost of all else, and ended up exterminating the Templar order to prevent an army of them, corrupted by red lyrium, devastating the south. I don't regret my decision. My reasons were sound. But all she sees is someone who couldn't save his friend, couldn't save her wife, and couldn't even bring back a body to mourn. After two years of that wound festering, I can't blame her if she never allows it to heal."

Trevelyan looked puzzled. "That explains why you shouldn't be here, not why you are." He said.

"True." He replied. "I couldn't protect Ellie. I couldn't bring back her body. But she was dear to me too. The least I can do is protect Leliana, like she would have wanted."

Trevelyan cocked his head. "She can take care of herself better than most, myself included, and she's never far from aid. Why would she need protection?."

"If an Archdemon attacked, what would you do?"

That brought Trevelyan up short. "I beg your pardon?"

Aegnor grimaced. "If I was unclear, I will speak plainly. If a creature of magic, powerful and ancient, attacked you and your Inquisition, how would you defend yourselves? How would you kill it, if it shrugged off Templar and Mage alike? Where would you go, if it destroyed Haven? Would you refuse to retreat, and die fighting? Would all hope of closing the Breach die with you?"

"No need to lecture me." Trevelyan replied, iron in his voice. "The fact remains that the Inquisition is the best hope to restore order, with or without you. We risk annihilation in the attempt, but standing aside would make annihilation certain."

Aegnor nodded. "I meant no offense. I risked the same when I combated the Blight, with fewer allies. Nonetheless, if you faced such a threat as you are now, the Inquisition would not survive. As Leliana is part of the Inquisition, I can best keep her safe by joining it too."

Trevelyan looked at him with a mixture of bemusement and awe. "You really did drop everything to join us, didn't you? You scouted out the Mages and the Templars, knowing we would need one of them, to make sure we chose the one with the best chance for success. And all for the sake of your friend."

"Friends. Leliana and I haven't always gotten along, but she's my friend too. That she now hates me doesn't change that fact."

"You're unique, Warden." Trevelyan replied. "Would that more were as loyal as you."

The ghost of a smile crossed Aegnor's face. "You're wrong, for what it's worth."

Trevelyan frowned. "About what?"

"I don't believe you're the Herald of Andraste." Aegnor replied. "But I do believe that you're the one who will close the Breach. There's a lot of good you could do in the world, moreso than me. I'm here for my friend, but I'm also here to make sure you close the Breach, and make sure one of the Chantry's faithful ends up in power who is worthy of it. Much as I'd like to tear it down, the Chantry brings hope to millions of people. People like you, Cassandra, and Leliana can prove cynics like me wrong and make it better, for both humans and elves."

Trevelyan didn't know what to say to that. They sat in silence for some time after that. In the end, he decided that two words were enough. "Thank you."

Aegnor smiled. "You are welcome." The two of them, Herald and Warden, pious and heathen, sat watching the fire die down to embers as the camp shifted around them.

* * *

The last time Aegnor was in the Hinterlands, looking for the Inquisition, the foliage had been vibrant. Now it was masked by a dusting of fluffy white snow. He smiled. He remembered when he'd been introduced to ice skating, how strange he thought it was to strap blades to one's feet, and how marvelous it was or, more accurately, how marvelous it was when he wasn't falling over. He'd had his revenge, though. The Dalish were the snowball champions of all Thedas.

He was surprised by the wave of nostalgia that struck him as he walked through the village. There were some new faces, young children that had been born after the Blight, but there were many others he recognized, separated from his memory of them only by a few more lines, or a few more grey hairs. He saw an old man with a limp, and shook his head. Last he'd seen him, he'd been hale and strong, holding a massive shield, his leg bandaged from fighting the previous night. It had clearly taken it's toll, but he smiled warmly when he saw his wife, and didn't look like a man who resented living. He smiled. _Whatever I've done since, I won't regret ending the Blight, nor those I saved along the way. _

He'd sifted through countless memories in the Fade, and he knew that he wasn't the first to question all that he'd done. Almost all had simply kept on living as they had, carrying the uncertainty and regret like a stone, mindful of its weight, yet unable to be rid of it. He differed from them. He knew how rid himself of the uncertainty, to live as he once had. Like with so many other things, he didn't dare. So he carried the weight, more foolish than any man who had ever lived. They, at least, did not choose to live that way, and lacked a means of escape. So he welcomed the respite, however temporary. He was certain that it would not last. Between Cassandra, Leliana, and Vivienne, he was surprised their Maker hadn't turned His gaze to strike him down.

They made it past the gate without incident. He, Leliana, and Dorian were the only figures there who might have been denied entry, but he'd taken care of Leliana and himself, while Dorian had acquired a disguise of his own. There was the expected posturing, with the absurd demand that the Herald come alone. A Magister as cunning as Alexius wouldn't expect them to acquiesce so easily. He demanded, and relented, to send a message. _You can bring as many allies as you want. This is my castle, and I am safe in here. You are not. _The message was reinforced by by the doors booming shut behind them as they entered the main hall. Tevinter acolytes stood in rows to either side, reinforced by a small contingent of armored soldiers with poleaxes. All told, their small band was outnumbered five to one. Alexius completed the message, seated at the far end of the hall, looking down at them from the dais. He smiled, at ease and in control.

Aegnor stumbled and fell with a curse, breaking the image. The Herald and his companions turned to look at him, surprised, but quickly proceeded when he waved them off. He was glad for his closed visor. It hid the grin spreading across his face. _Thick carpet, all throughout the hall. Good. They won't notice a few... additions, right beneath their feet. _He whispered the words, hidden by the Inquisition's footsteps. With so much lyrium and warding added to the castle, his spell went unnoticed. He hurried to join the others.

"My friend!" Alexius said, standing to greet them. "It's so good to see you again. And your... associates, of course. I'm sure we can come some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."

Fiona, who had stood meekly to the side as they entered, stepped forward. "Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"

Alexius' smile soured. "Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives."

Trevelyan's eyes hardened. "If the Grand Enchanter wants to be a part of these talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition." His tone was polite, yet brooked no argument. Aegnor nodded approvingly. _He has a talent for this. More than I ever did._

Fiona inclined her head gratefully. "Thank you."

Alexius was brought up short at that. To cover his lapse, he turned and seated himself again. With his back to the fire, his expressions became harder to discern. _Clever. _"The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?"

Trevelyan smiled. "Nothing. You're an intelligent man, Alexius. The Breach threatens us all. Therefore, I think that the Breach being closed would be payment enough for anyone, particularly someone like you with such an interest in the South."

Alexius smiled back. "I'm afraid I cannot accept such a bargain. I am generous, but that generosity only goes so far."

Trevelyan's smile widened. "Magister, I'm afraid I don't understand. Surely you do not want the Breach to remain open?"

"Indeed not." Alexius replied.

"Then this demand of payment... it seems unreasonable. Irrational even. You know that the Inquisition has little of value to you. In fact, I daresay the only thing of value in the whole of the South just fell into your possession."

Alexius' smile wavered. "And what might that be?"

Trevelyan chuckled. "Why, the mages of Redcliffe, of course. You arrive, just before the Inquisition, yet just after the Conclave, and offer your help! You must have been watching VERY closely to make sure of that outcome."

Fiona glared at Alexius. "Is this true?"

Alexius ignored her. "I don't know what you're implying, Herald, but I have heard nothing to suggest why I should help you. Is there a point you were trying to reach?"

The laughter in Trevelyan's voice faded, and his face set into a stone mask. "There is. Grand Enchanter, kindly get your people to safety. Magister Alexius has manipulated you for his own gain, and has no intention of providing you protection that merits the term. Just as he has no intention of allowing me to leave alive, in this warded fortress filled with Venatori loyal to him, and southern mages whose loyalty he assumed."

Alexius sighed. "Such baseless accusations. Guards, keep the Grand Enchanter from leaving. There's no need to cause a panic." Two of the guards nodded and approached Fiona. _That's my cue. _Aegnor strode forward with surprising speed and cut them off.

"The Grand Enchanter leaves." Aegnor said mildly. They ignored him, as expected, and moved to brush him aside. Inside a second, he had disarmed one of them and had wrenched the other's arm behind his back. He held the poleaxe loosely at his side and turned back to Fiona. "Go." Too startled to respond, she did, fleeing out the side door before more guards could stop her.

"Herald, have your associate release my men, or there will be bloodshed." Alexius said, anger creeping into his voice.

Trevelyan's eyes flashed. "I might put more stock in those words, if you weren't _after my head." _The room exploded with movement. Alexius snatched up his staff with speed that defied his age, even as Trevelyan drew his sword and advanced. Their followers armed themselves with similar speed. Before the slaughter could begin, Aegnor activated his spell. Glyphs of Mana Clashing, hidden by the carpet, exploded in a wave of blue mist and tore the life out of every Tevinter mage save Alexius himself. With no mages to protect them, the Tevinter soldiers hesitated, debating whether to attack or retreat. Aegnor solved that debate by tearing off the the arm he was holding and burying the poleaxe in its owner's head, shattering the haft with the force of his strike.

"Rather uncalled for." Dorian said, removing his disguise with a flourish and striding forward. "There are better ways to get a point across."

"Dorian." Alexius said, a mixture of betrayal and resignation coloring his voice. "Why am I not surprised?"

Dorian sighed. "Alexius, it's not too late. You've lost this fight, but you can still help close the Breach and go home. You could spend time with Felix, instead of following whatever delusions the Venatori have been feeding you."

Alexius' face contorted with rage. "I'm doing this _for _Felix!"

"Is that so?" Dorian replied scathingly. "I fail to see how this sort of madness helps anyone!"

"I offered you a chance to join me, Dorian." Alexius said. "I offered you a chance to work with the Elder One, and bring about his vision. There is no resisting him. In him is power enough to cure Felix, even as I have failed."

Aegnor scoffed. "That's a lie." He said, lifting his visor. He let the arm drop to the floor with a wet slap, next to it's moaning owner. "If he's been Tainted, then there's no cure that you want any part of."

Alexius sneered. "And what would you know? You have not witnessed what the Elder One can accomplish!"

Dorian shook his head. "Just listen to yourself, Alexius! You've no idea how it pains me to hear you sound like some dreadful cliche."

Aegnor brushed his finger over the rune that maintained his disguise, allowing it to fade. He smiled grimly at the shock and recognition that crossed Alexius' face. "You're right. I don't know what your Elder One can do. But I do know that there's only one cure for the Blight, _and he doesn't have it."_

"Come now, Alexius." Dorian pleaded. "The Warden can help Felix. The Herald will close the Breach, and you will _live. _You won't have to die, knowing that you helped a madman succeed!"

Alexius smiled sadly. "I may die here. But if the Elder One hears of my service, Felix may live." His gaze settled on the Herald, and his amulet glowed with a green light. Aegnor moved, a shimmering shield woven from a dozen different spells appearing around him, so he stood between him and Alexius. He threw one of his daggers at Alexius even as the spell reached him. He stood his ground, utterly sure that he could weather it. When the glow surrounding him faded, he was no longer in the great hall. He was alone, in a room veined with red lyrium.


	21. Chapter 21: Power and Pain

**A warning to all readers: This chapter is quite dark, with themes that may be upsetting to some. Because of this, this fic's status has been changed to M.**

* * *

Aegnor cursed. _Fenedhis lasa! What did he do to me?_ His body was unaffected, and his magical defenses hadn't even been touched. It had surrounded him and the Herald, and he'd ended up here, in what seemed to be one of Redcliffe's dungeons. _Time magic. I knew he could move himself, but for him to move me, both in time and space, with no blood or lyrium at hand... he's dangerous, more dangerous than I thought possible._ He needed to get back, that much was certain, and for that he'd need Alexius' amulet. It had been the focus of the spell. Hopefully, knowing the theory of time magic was enough to get it to work.

It was with disgust that he beheld the red lyrium. It hadn't been there before, so he had to assume that the Venatori had succeeded, and the Inquisition had failed. Worse, it might have been destroyed, and the south fallen. _All because Trevelyan and I weren't around. He couldn't close the Breach, and I couldn't protect the Inquisition when this Elder One arrived._ If the red lyrium was any clue, Redcliffe remained in Venatori hands. He hoped, at least, that Amaranthine hadn't fallen. Before he'd arrived at Haven, he'd garrisoned Vigil's Keep with five hundred soldiers of the Silver Order, along with more than a hundred Wardens, forty-seven disillusioned Templars, and twenty-two Apostates seeking refuge. If it and the city remained, he might have a place to regroup if he couldn't find the amulet.

He shook his head in disbelief. Alone, in unknown territory, and with no allies that could be relied on to even exist. _Yet here I am, relishing the challenge, the simplicity of it all._ Ellie had been right about him. He did enjoy this. _Slowly, Aegnor. It was flaunting your power that bred all the mistrust that has come to haunt you. _If there was a hope for this future, he would have to avoid The Elder One bringing retribution down upon those allies he had left. _Redcliffe is one of the most secure fortresses in the south, and it was close to Haven. Some of the Inquisition may be down here. _Unfortunately, if there were guards, he would have to fight. Stealth was not his forte. He cracked his knuckles. _Starfang will draw too much attention in the Fade, so it'll have to be hand to hand._

The door was strong, crafted from thick wood and barred with iron. He tore it off its hinges. A pair of Venatori stood on the other side of it, shouting and reaching for their weapons, so he threw the door at them. One fell backwards onto the ground, and had his head torn off. The other stood, and was smashed in two. He looked them over. Grunts, fit only to guard dungeons..._ I need an officer._ They were guarding the dungeons, though. That meant there were prisoners down here, and his guess wasn't far off. For their sake, he prayed they hadn't been here long. The dark, the damp, and above all the ceaseless glow of red lyrium chilled even him, after all the horrors he had seen. There were cells, empty but for massive pillars of it. He couldn't help but thing that many of them were pressed against the bars, as if to try and escape it, or pressed in a corner, huddled up to pray that the end would come quickly.

It took him two more rooms before he found someone worth noting. He was big, clad in heavy armor and bearing a single badge of honor. A lowly officer relegated to command the prison guards, but an officer nonetheless. He tore apart seven more Venatori bare-handed in as many seconds, yet took care to make their injuries crippling, not fatal. The officer turned to flee, and found himself being grabbed bodily and slammed into a pillar of red lyrium, hard enough to crack his breastplate.

Aegnor took a firm hold of his throat, but didn't squeeze. "Talk, Venatori."

He shook his head furiously. "You're supposed to be dead! They all said you were dead!"

"Then I must be a spirit, come to take vengeance. Now talk, or I'll force so much red lyrium down your throat that your brain will melt!" In response, the officer tried to break free, buffeting him with steel clad fists. Aegnor allowed him a few hits, then broke one of his fingers. "Stop screaming." He admonished, as the man wailed. "Talk. I'm losing patience."

The man's eyes rolled back in pain and terror. "I'll talk! I'll talk! Whatever you want to know!"

"Smart man. Who is in charge of the castle?"

"Magister Alexius!"

Aegnor frowned. "He's alive? I could have sworn I hit him." It was no ordinary dagger he'd thrown at him. The Tooth of the Mountain Father was designed to pierce magical defenses, crafted by the Avvars to combat Tevinter. There was no chance Alexius could have cast him through time and defended himself simultaneously. Then there was the matter of the poison he'd chosen.

The man nodded frantically. "You did! Right in the heart. Magebane on the blade too, was the rumor, but the Elder One kept him alive. He's gone half mad, and no one dares cross him. He's too powerful."

"We'll see about that. Where is he?"

The officer's hyperventilating eased a bit, now that he wasn't breaking more fingers. "The great hall. He never leaves, not even to eat. He even had a shard door constructed, to make sure no one but all of his most trusted men can get in."

Aegnor smiled. There was no warmth in it. "Good man. You may come out of this yet. Now, where can I find the Elder One?"

A beautific smile came over the officer's face. "He rarely graces us with his presence. When he does… I pray you have a chance to see the same majesty, the same power, before he kills you. Not even you should be denied that opportunity."

Aegnor gripped his throat a little tighter. "Where. Is. He?"

The smile remained. "He descends from the Golden City, where he keeps his throne. The men allowed within can be counted on one hand. I cannot imagine how great an honor it is to be one of them."

Aegnor's lip curled with disgust. Fanatics. Be it the Maker or this Elder One, they all act the same if they think it'll please him. "Thank you. You've been very helpful." The man's face lit with hope. It was misplaced. This was a nightmare, a terrible dream he hoped to wake from. He had no qualms about sharing his nightmare with others.

He punched the man, lightly for him, drawing blood but leaving him alive, and removed his hand from his throat. He swayed, not believing his luck and bolted for the door, forgetting to unlock it in his haste. As he struggled with the lock, Aegnor inhaled slowly. The blood on his hands provided a link to every man in the room, most of whom were crippled, but still very much alive. Power flowed into him, their blood to his blood, and he grew strong as they grew weak. The officer at the door staggered, now holding the lock to hold himself up. A moment later, he slumped to the ground, drained of life.

Caladrius once offered me power, drained from Elves, to make me stronger. Little did he know the secrets I had found in the scrolls of Banastor, I had already been doing that for months. Many assumed that blood magic was the source of his strength. In truth, he no longer needed it save for the most dire situations. He had drained the life out of so many that his reserves were near-inexhaustible. He refrained when around others. Not even Ellie had known how extensive his vampirism had become. He did not seek out victims, but he had never needed to. Enough people had needed killing over the last decade that it made little difference if he killed them with blade or Blood Magic.

A presence in his mind growled, displeased. He silenced it. Blood Magic was only one tool of many in his arsenal. Most of them were best kept locked away. Relying on them not only made him sloppy, it would attract more attention than even he could handle.

He stalked through half remembered halls, twisted until they were nearly unrecognizable. Barely a dozen guards remained to oppose him, and served only as fuel. It was a quarter hour before heard breathing in one of the cells. Who is that? It sounds… gravelly, if that's possible. It took a few seconds for him to realize that the sound came from inside one of the cells nearly filled with red lyrium. No one was in sight. He moved closer, wary of a trap, and was horrified by what he saw.

Grand Enchanter Fiona was trapped inside the central pillar. Her lower body had been consumed entirely, leaving only her head, torso, and one of her arms exposed, yet riddled with tendrils seeking to consume them as well. Her breaths were shallow and sickly, and the intake of air was interspersed with the sound of crystals grinding together. It must be growing in her lungs. He had seen Templars be driven mad by it, but this… this was beyond even his worst fears.

Fiona opened her eyes when she heard him approach. "Warden Mahariel! You're alive!"

"I am." He said gently. "I apologize for my absence. Much has happened that was never meant to."

"You bought us some time, at least." She replied. "After the Inquisition fell, Alexius captured me while my people escaped. The Elder One's general interrogated me, cursing the lack of Red Templars and how long it was taking to snuff out the Wardens in Amaranthine. Would that you had arrived sooner. Some few might have been saved if you had."

Aegnor's veins turned to ice. "How long was I gone?"

"A year?" She looked uncertain. "It has been a long time, long enough for the cells to warm and grow cold again."

A year. May Falon'Din guide those who died to this Elder One. "What about the Herald? Did he appear?"

She nodded weakly. "He did. Alexius captured him before he could escape. I saw him being dragged back into the dungeon."

"DAMN! Is he still alive?"

"I do not know. I pray that he isn't. No one deserves to linger as long as I have."

Aegnor sighed. _She's been through enough._ "Thank you. I apologize for extending your pain with my questions, even as brief as they were."

Her eyes lit with sudden hope. "You would grant me mercy?"

In response, he waved his hand. A simple sleep spell, gently applied, followed by a touch of entropy. It was as quick and painless a death as he could make it. "In life, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. You sacrificed as few others have, with no hope of survival or mercy. You will be remembered, Warden Fiona. Though you left, you were one of us to the very end. And the Wardens avenge their own." Even if there was only one left.

This future was hopeless, that much was certain. Amaranthine had fallen, though he felt more than a little pride that it had held out for so long. The Elder One was powerful, powerful enough to conquer the south and save a man who had been stabbed in the heart with enough Magebane to killl him ten times over. Red lyrium grew from every crevice, and he now had proof that they grew it. From people. His people. How many Dalish had been slaughtered in the last year? Had his mother? His sire, if he still lived? Marethari? Merril?

His gut clenched when he counted his people, _his people, _bound by everything save blood. Oghren, Alistair, Leliana, Sten, Nathaniel, Velanna, Morrigan... he doubted even Morrigan had survived. And her... _their _son. Rage boiled to the surface, overpowering his grief. He fought it. This future didn't need the Aegnor who tread lightly, and advised on the course. It needed more. _They needed more. _Not from him, however. The Herald may yet be alive. One they might yet trust, one who might succeed where he had failed. One who might restore Leliana's faith, and pull her back from the abyss. He was not that person. The Herald of Andraste may yet be. And he might yet be returned to the past.

He forced his rage back down, and pressed onward.

Even as his feet carried him through the stone halls, he cast his mind into the Fade, and found it nearly unrecognizable. Where once it had been an ocean of thought and memory, dangerous to the unwary yet safe enough to those who knew the risk, now it was a storm-lashed sea. He was strong, yet he found himself faltering at times, clinging to his body to avoid being thrown adrift. _Elgar'nan's teeth! It's never been this bad, not in Kirkwall or near the Breach. _He didn't know of anything that could have caused it. A demon rode in on the currents, howling and tearing at his mind, seeking a way in. He blunted its assault and batted it aside, allowing the same current to sweep it away. Hundreds, more than he'd ever seen, smashed into him in a similar manner as he searched, desperate to escape the Fade at any cost.

He grit his teeth. _Concentrate. _He didn't need to travel far. Already he could sense it, a beacon, both lock and key to the Veil. It shone brightly, second only to the Breach, and demons huddled around it like starving wolves around a wounded elk, waiting only for a moment of weakness so they could be the one to claim such a morsel as their prize. _A demon with the mark... that would be the second most terrifying abomination I've ever seen. _He was not like to forget the first.

He withdrew from the storm of the Fade. Judging by the contingent of guards now shouting at him and drawing weapons, he'd found where they were keeping the Herald. He drew one of his daggers and stepped inside the first strike, delivering a small nick in return. Before the guard could swing at him again, he bypassed him and repeated the process with the one behind him. His movements were too fast for most to even touch him, his body empowered by the lives of the thousands he had drained, and those that managed it had their weapons turned aside by his armor, crafted from the bones of the Archdemon. So many guards were garrisoned that even those small nicks left his dagger dripping with blood. With a drawn breath, he breathed in their life, and the contingent collapsed in unison, dead before they hit the ground.

He wiped his dagger off on one of the corpses and sheathed it. "Now for the door." He said to himself. It was even heavier than the one he'd encountered earlier. _This has to be where they're keeping Trevelyan. _Unable to find a good handhold, he smashed the hinges and lock until they detached from the frame, then allowed it to fall backwards, careful to avoid crushing anything in the room beyond. He thought he was prepared for what lay beyond. He thought he'd seen every horror that this hellish future could offer. He was wrong. Inside the room was the one person he had feared above all others.

It was Ellie.

She hung from the ceiling, naked and covered in wounds. Some were scabbed over, others were oozing and fresh. beneath those were scars, more scars than even he possessed. She was gaunt and pale, and her hair was a matted tangle that hung over her face. Small chunks of flesh had been removed, surgically or otherwise, leaving gaping holes. Her breaths were shallow things, blessedly free of the crystalline grinding that had plagued Fiona's, but seeming to pain her even more.

The shackles holding her wrists and ankles shattered, as did the rack of torturer's instruments next to it. He couldn't stand the idea of it existing any longer. A cloak from one of the fallen guards tore itself from the corpse and flew into his outstretched hand even as he moved, faster than he could ever recall, catching her before she hit the ground and wrapping her in it. "Ellie!" He yelled, uncaring if the Elder One himself heard him. "Come on Ellie, you survived the Architect, you can survive this!" He poured a constant stream of healing into her as he held her. He used lightning to keep her heart beating, fire and frost to make sure her body was the right temperature, petrification to splint the broken bones. "Dammit, don't you die on me! You don't get to appear in front of me, after all these years, and die without a word!"

The first sound he heard was scratching, and he saw that one of her hands was grabbing at the stone floor with cracked fingernails, trying to get away. "_No... no... not again... just let me die. You will never have it." _Her voice was barely perceptible, even to his ears. He increased the amount of magic pouring into her ruined frame, and was stunned when she began to resist. Her body had withered, but her magic had lost none of its potency. He could barely keep her heart beating, and as his magic faded, her body began to grow chill in his arms. He recalled the runes on the shackled that held her. _T__hey must have been the only thing keeping her alive. _

He took off his gauntlet and grabbed her hand in his. "Ellie, it's me! It's Aegnor!" He redoubled his efforts, but she was forcing him back even further. Her mind pressed down around his, squeezing, seeking to snuff him out. He set his jaw, refusing to let go, and held his mental barriers. He's seen her do this to Templars that assumed a mage, Warden or no, would be easy prey. She would trap their minds in the Fade, rendering them incapable of using their talents, and crush them. In desperation, he poured his memories into her along with his magic.

The day they first met. The Joining. Lothering, Redcliffe, Orzammar, Soldier's Peak, The Brecilian Forest, Denerim, Haven, the Landsmeet, Amaranthine. Every word exchanged, every moment that had defined the two of them. He replayed memories of her and Leliana talking at camp, so quietly that only he had heard them.

The sheer weight of memories gave her pause. The pressure eased. Slowly, she began to sift through them, one by one, handling each of them gingerly. As she saw more, she began to rush through them, devouring every moment he offered her. Their adventure, crafted in his head and waiting to be written by Varric, he gave to her. He followed her through the memories, reliving times that were better, not for their lack of conflict, not for their lack of death and pain, but for the fact that they could rely on each other, even after everything had been taken from them.

She looked at him with tear filled eyes. The pressure disappeared. "_Aegnor... I remember... you promised you would never abandon me... in this living nightmare, I didn't dream you would keep that promise. I'm sorry, my friend."_

He wiped the tears away from his own eyes and shook his head. "I failed you, Ellie."

She shook, but no sound came out. It took him a moment to realize she was laughing. "_I remember a time... a time when you wouldn't have said that. What happened to you?"_

"You made me swear to never again tread on the world like I ruled it. You made me swear to accept the same burden as everyone else did, and feel guilt for what I'd done."

She dropped her gaze from his. "_I did, didn't I... after you threatened the Divine. Not even you could fight a war with every Andrastian nation." _She coughed. "_You were invincible... but more than that, you were unstoppable. Half of Denerim burned, and you only saw the half that survived. You never considered respecting the dead, only what you could do for the living. It's how you ended the Blight... but it would have brought you to ruin. I couldn't let them send Leliana after you, as the Left Hand of the Divine. I couldn't force myself to choose who I'd support then."_

He nodded. "I remember."

Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. "_And then you kept that promise, in the worst way I could imagine... you changed yourself. You fed that... THING, and became a stranger."_

He smiled gently. "We may be glad for that soon. If I can find the Herald and return, none of this will ever have happened. He can take the helm, and I follow."

She shook her head slowly. "_He is dead. The Anchor killed him years ago, before they could take it from him."_

He closed his eyes and huffed, trying to keep more tears from falling. _Years ago. _"How long has it been?" He asked. "How long have you been down here? For how long have they-" He clenched his teeth, not willing to think about it further.

_"That will do nothing but make my pain yours."_

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. "I know. How long?"

She sighed. _"It's been eight years, two months, and twenty-three days since you disappeared. I've been down here for six of those years. It was the only way."_

"THE ONLY WAY!?" He bellowed. "The only way for what?"

She smiled at him. "_There's the Aegnor I knew, if only a little." _Her left hand began grasping at the edge of the cloak. In her state, she was having little success. "_The Elder One needed the Anchor, but your Herald stole it by mistake, and he could not find a way transfer it. It took him years to prepare another one, another ritual. It took me nearly as long to recover after... after Caer Gaol."_

His eyes flickered briefly to the sunburst branded on her forehead. "You recovered?"

She shook her head. "_You know what state I was in... you know what they did to me there. There was nothing you could have done to stop the slaughter that followed."_ Her hand continued to grasp, and finally managed to grab hold of the cloak's hem. _"By the time I was capable of reason, the world belonged to The Elder One. The only thing I could do to spite him was to steal what he desired most, the tool that would make him a God."_

Realization dawned on him. "Ellie, you didn't-" She pulled aside the cloak and unclenched her fist, revealing a Mark, identical to Trevelyan's.

_"I did. I only regret that I didn't get away. Would that I could study it properly. It restored my sanity, and kept it these past years. It's the only reason I can still speak to you."_

He looked at her, sorrow etched into his features. "I am so sorry, Ellie. No one should suffer this. I-"

She put a finger gently to his lips. "_Don't. Don't make me dwell on it. Don't make me explode, and tell you where to shove your pity. Don't make it sound like these six years were in vain."_

"In vain? What do you mean?"

"_What do you think I did with my sanity? Through the torture, the knives, the whips, the burning, the sick experiments, what do you think I did? After they violated me, after they carved my flesh from my body, what do you think I did? After they did the same to Leliana, while I watched, before killing her, what do you think I did. Forced to remain through all it, to understand all that happened, and have the release of madness denied to me, **what do you think I did?**" _The fury in her voice shook him. It was not a wild, mindless fury like he had seen her in before. It was cold, calculating, and perfectly sane. It scared him more than he thought possible.

"Revenge." He replied. "You planned your revenge."

She smiled, wolf-like. "_I did. And I found what their Elder One could not. I thought of a way to transfer the Anchor." _She laughed at his expression. "_They__ should have made me Tranquil like the Templars did when they found me in Kirkwall. Because now, you and I will prove their undoing. The one who shattered me in Kirkwall took my memories of the event, but I can aid you in this. With it, you need not seek them out. They will come to you."_

Aegnor paused, then chuckled, then laughed, high and demented, appreciating the same gallows humor she did. "Our last spit in the face of history." He choked out at length. "Your last request, and you want me to return, with the Mark of the Inquisition's Herald so I can tread over the world like I rule it. To ignore the guilt, damn the consequences, all because of what I alone know."

The two of them laughed. They laughed at how pointless it all had been. Their attempts to keep the world safe, their attempts to keep the world from knowing what gnawed at it. They laughed at the forces arrayed against them, great enough that the world had fallen, and they alone remained to stand amidst the ashes. They laughed, knowing that the world would shake.

Ellie took his hand in her skeletal one, still chuckling. "_Promise me one thing, Aegnor."_

He smiled. "Name it."

She smiled back. "_Promise me you'll be your old self. Thedas will need the The Warden, not the shadow you've become. And... promise me you'll look after Leliana. _

"I already promised you that." He replied.

She shook her head. "_No... I saw your memories. You didn't want her to know what I had done. You didn't want her to know what had become of me. I thank you for that, more than you can imagine. But there's no need to take all of the blame anymore. They cannot do anything more to me than what has been done already. You can live, Aegnor. And it is my dearest wish that my wife and my best friend do not end up killing one another."_

Aegnor hesitated. "Are you sure?" He asked shakily. "I was always a heathen, a blood mage. History will never look kindly on me."

"_I'm sure. Leliana was right. If Thedas believes you destroyed the White Spire, you will be a fugitive for the rest of your life."_ She gripped his hand tighter. "_Do not tarry, Aegnor. Six years of torture will break any mind, including mine, and without the Anchor I will be the same danger to you that I was at the White Spire."_

He knew this was goodbye. The knot in his stomach finally rose to his throat, choking him up. "I miss you, Ellie." He managed, tears streaming from his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this alone."

_"You can't." _She replied. Her other hand clapped him on the shoulder, still weak, but the gesture was unmistakable. "_The shadow you have become has no hope. Yet you are not a shadow, Aegnor. You are the flame that casts it, brighter than any other. Remember that." _She gave him an apologetic look. "_Brace yourself. This won't be pleasant." _Before he could react, a searing pain shot from his hand to his jaw.

He weathered it without complaint. To do less would be an insult. Even as the Anchor took hold, he mustered the life of a dozen men, recently gathered, and let it pour into Ellie. He had given her enough healing to save her briefly, but her body was ruined beyond repair. It was a sieve, and no matter how he tried to patch the holes, life would not remain in her. The life of a dozen, however, might last long enough for her to lay waste to Redcliffe after he left. _This Elder One may be a God, but at the height of my strength I couldn't stop Ellie. If he wants to keep his throne, he will have to bleed for it. _Now, for the first part of his promise. The shock of transferring the Anchor would keep Ellie unconscious only for a few minutes, and he would be wise to find Alexius' amulet before she did. He recalled his thoughts the night before, and shook his head. _This Ellie is dying, but mine can still be saved. It's time I was the man who could save her._

For the first time in years, he put the stone down, and allowed himself to be Aegnor Mahariel.

He pulled his mind free of its sapping influence, grimacing at the sensation. The demon he'd crafted was no small thing of rage, hunger, or even pride. It was a demon of fear. A Nightmare born of everyone who had ever lived and died in fear of him, in fear of what he could do, including himself. The Nightmare, a great wyrm with scales of obsidian, curled protectively around his consciousness as a dragon might its clutch. He was its source of food, and it was his fears that had given it shape. It would shield him in the Fade, and feed on the death throes of any he slew.

A grin stole slowly across his face_. It's been two years since I started feeding you. Two years since I had fear and grief enough, fear of what atrocities I might carry out, and grief for Ellie, stolen from me and all those who held her dear_. He felt his heart rate slow, his anxiety fade, his fears recede. They were still present. But now, it was his personality, his fire, his rage, his passions that dominated them, as they had during the Blight. He breathed deeply, and his eyes opened, burning with fire that could not be quenched.

Aegnor Mahariel had returned.

* * *

The shard door burst asunder, and Aegnor strode through it. No longer was he the slight elf carrying a sword never drawn. Starfire shone like ice in his right hand, even as it was wreathed in flame. It steamed with the blood of demons, who had fallen from the sky itself, now overtaken by the Breach. In his left hand, the Anchor glowed too brightly to look at directly. A dozen rifts had barred passage through the castle. None remained. Alexius stood, waiting for him with his staff drawn. It made little difference.

He didn't wait for Alexius to speak. He didn't wait for him to beg, or explain what he had done. A single step propelled him from one end of the hall to the other in less than a second, and Starfang punched through Alexius' defenses like wet paper, killing him instantly. Up close, he saw how badly his Magebane had ravaged him. He looked ancient, nearly as skeletal as Ellie had been, and The Thorn of the Dead Gods remained buried in his chest, right next to the amulet. He grabbed it in his left hand, and pulled both it and Starfang free of him. The Magister fell facedown in a pool of his own blood. _And so passes the last Venatori in Redcliffe Castle. _

He channeled power into the amulet, drawing power from both himself and the Breach. It was the true font of this magic, and he could not travel further than its existence. Nor, he discovered, could he travel to a time in which he already existed. Not even the laws of time could be bent so egregiously. He tried for a time to travel to a specific year, a year when the Herald might have been alive, but to no avail. It would take years for that kind of precision. The best he could do was force the magic back as far as it could go, to the earliest time without his presence. He opened the portal and stood in the entrance, waiting. He didn't wait long.

Ellie smashed through the floor, so steeped in the Fade that she was no longer human. Six years of torment had consumed her, transforming her into a thing of pain and hate, so terrible it made his Nightmare recoil. The ceiling collapsed when she reached it, torn apart by her very presence, and the falling stones were cast aside as if by a catapult. He looked up with grim satisfaction. The reason she had ignored him was plain to see, even before the ceiling was destroyed. Its presence in the Fade was greater even than his.

A figure descended from the heavens, holding aloft an Orb. Ellie responded by summoning a thousand of her own, of flame, stone, lightning, and ice. Once, they had been the size of a fist. Now, they were larger than his head. Ellie slammed into him, bombarding him with magic even as his Orb seared the flesh from her bones. The force shook the foundations of the castle.

Even in the depths of her madness, Ellie's muscles remembered what he had taught her. Outmatched in magic, she grappled him, forcing his hands behind his back. Each of her orbs shifted into stone, forming a pillar as large as Kinloch Hold. He watched as they fell. He watched as green fire burned her, futilely, unable to match the torture she had already been through. He watched as she summon even more orbs and matched him, burning him with flames that burned white. He watched as she layered hexes upon him, making him vulnerable. He watched as red lyrium pierced her, seeking to dislodge her, and only serving to connect them further. He left before they struck the ground. The impact reverberated throughout the portal as it closed behind him, so powerfully it seemed to have shattered the continent.

* * *

He appeared where he'd left, when he'd left. The amulet, in the presence of its counterpart, disappeared, unable to exist. It was just as well. One of them was trouble enough. He floored Alexius with a mana drain that knocked him off his feet and out of the dagger's path, ensuring that the fight was over, before turning to the Inquisition. "I'm sorry." He said.

Cassandra stepped forward. "What happened? Where is the Herald?"

He shook his head. "He's gone. Alexius sent us to different times. The Herald was dead before I arrived."

Cassandra sagged. "Then there is no hope." She replied, crushed. "He was our one chance at closing the Breach. This was a foolish plan from the start."

He gestured to Alexius. "Bull, Cassandra, bind him and get him on his feet. We'll bring him back to Haven for trial. Varric, Solas, find Fiona and offer her a full alliance with the Inquisition. Everyone else will help Leliana secure the castle."

Leliana rounded on him. "You don't give orders, Aegnor. These aren't your Wardens. You have no right!"

Aegnor met her gaze evenly. "I have the same right your Herald did." He held his left hand aloft, where the Anchor shone clear as day. "I'm sorry, Leliana, but Alexius rent both of our plans to tatters. It's time to take matters into our own hands, before things get any worse."

She glared. "And what do you mean by that?"

"It means I'm not going to treat this like the Mage-Templar War." He replied. "I'm going to treat it like the Blight, starting with me taking command. I'm going to call in every ally and favor I have left, and whoever is leading the Venatori will discover just how unwise it is to be an enemy of The Warden." With that, he turned away from her and strode into the castle, leaving the cowering soldiers for the others to deal with. The more dangerous rats would be holed up further in, and he would no longer shy away from any task to help the Inquisition, however small. _I owe you the truth, Leliana. The full truth. You and I will talk, and soon. _For now, there was work to be done.


	22. Chapter 22: Explain, Or One Of Us Dies

_I did not know him best, but then, none in the Inquisition knew him well. As I presume to take his place, it is only fitting that I write his obituary._

_Ian Trevelyan was born in 9:15 Dragon, the fourth child of the Trevelyan noble house in Ostwick. He was given education as befit a noble son, with both words and weapons, yet he was ultimately destined to enter the Chantry as a Templar. His family already had an heir and a second son, so there was no place for Ian as a member of his house. He was an exceptional warrior, and attempted many times to perform great deeds and become knighted, hoping that he might find a life as a Knight Errant. From what I knew of him, he had no desire to live as a Templar and forswear worldly pleasures or break a vow to enjoy them, as many Templars do. He won tourneys and melees, local at first, then accomplished what was perhaps the greatest upset in the Free Marches when he won the melee at the Grand Tourney in Cumberland. Any other would have been knighted by one of the many present, or even won the support of a powerful patron. Had he won the tourney as well, Ian may have succeeded. Unfortunately he was unhorsed in the joust by Lady Honorine Chastain, and proved not exceptional enough to displease both the powerful Trevelyan family and the Chantry. I daresay that if Ian wasn't worth the risk, there wasn't a warrior there that was._

_Before he could take his vows, the Mage-Templar war broke out, accomplishing what Ian couldn't and putting his life as a Templar on hold. Instead, he was kept at home as little more than an ornament, until the Conclave was called at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He was sent, to observe, advise, and above all represent the family. Once the mages were corralled back into their Circles and order restored, he was to approach one of the Knight-Commanders and request to resume his training, so that he might take his vows. Instead, once the dust had cleared, he was possessed of a mysterious mark capable of closing rifts, and was dubbed the Herald of Andraste, both for the fortuitous nature of the mark and for the enduring account of there being a woman behind him when he stepped out of the Fade. I cannot speak for who that woman might have been. Andraste is dead, but spirits of faith have been known to take her likeness to comfort those who pray to her. If that is the case, decrying the figure as a false Andraste would be pointless. While not the Prophet herself, it would be as close to her as this world will ever see._

_In the month since the Breach was opened, Ian proved his mettle time and again. He restored peace to the Hinterlands, transforming it from a lawless region to one dotted with Inquisition outposts and patrolled by Inquisition soldiers, free of the bandits, Mages, and Templars terrorizing it. He rescued Inquisition agents captured by an Avvar warlord, killing him in single combat, and gained the support of those Avvar who had opposed him. He secured the services of the Bull's Chargers, a mercenary company of some repute, and defeated the leader of the Blades of Hessarian, likewise in single combat. By observing their traditions, strange though they are, he managed to not only stop their bloodshed, but acquire them as an asset to the Inquisition. His appearance in Val Royeaux, while tarnished by the decrying of the Chantry and the Templars both, was fruitful, as he managed to recruit both the Friends of Red Jenny and the Loyalist Mages to the Inquisition's cause. Several noble houses promised token support, a pittance, yet the inroads made with that act do not deserve our scorn. In the end, he met his end in a risky gambit, walking into the Venatori-occupied Redcliffe castle, when he was sent forward in time by Magister Gerion Alexius. From what little I was able to gather, he attempted to defeat Alexius in that future and return to the present, and was unsuccessful. He died in captivity, defiant to the end. _

_Ian Trevelyan was pious, loving the Chantry not as what is was, but what it could be. He was a dreamer, but he was willing to do what was n__ecessary to fulfill that dream. He was a warrior, skilled enough to have been legendary in a lesser Age, and wise enough to know when he alone could not finish a fight. He was a diplomat, always willing to find friends and allies, even amidst the ashes of an enemy. In short, he was exactly what Thedas needed, when it needed it, and had he defied Alexius' magic against all odds, he would have restored peace and order to the south. I can think of no higher praise to give him. May his name live on in glory. _

_The obituary of Ian Trevelyan, written by Aegnor Mahariel in the winter of 9:41 Dragon. Published in every corner of Thedas in the winter of 9:42 Dragon._

For the second time in three days, the gates of Redcliffe admitted an outside party. The first had been small, not a dozen individuals, and could be charitably described as haphazard. The gates had been manned then, and capable of repelling an assault. The second was larger, with well over a hundred armed soldiers and an equal contingent of courtiers, squires, and other hanger-ons that were necessary to the smooth running of things. This time, the gates were left open, and no one stood atop the walls. A score of banners were held proudly aloft, all bearing the Mabari of Ferelden. Though their armor shone and their horses brushed, fatigue lined every face, and the horses had little energy to protest their rider's direction. The man at the head of the column was the only one who remained alert. He wore fine wool and furs, proof against the chill, and a sword at his side, glowing slightly even its sheath. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a mess of blonde hair that was at odds with his otherwise dignified appearance.

At a word, the party dismounted. Half of the soldiers dismounted and joined the blonde man and moved up the stairs, while the rest helped tend to the horses and moved to secure the gatehouse. The blonde man stopped halfway up the stairs, causing his men to pause uncertainly. He stared at the wooden railing, a lighter color wood at that point than above or below. His lips twitched into a crooked smile, before he continued up the stairs, this time taking the steps two at a time. His men moved to open the doors for him, but he reached them first and did it himself. They were heavy enough to repel assault, yet he had little trouble opening them.

The great hall was empty save for Aegnor, who sat at the far end. He wore his blood red armor, and had Starfang lay across his knees. The blonde man stiffened for a moment. If a human had made that gesture when greeting guests at a castle, it was to tell them that they were not welcome. Aegnor was no human, however, and stood when Alistair entered, Starfang held loosely at his side. The soldiers ran ahead and surrounded him, hands on their swords, but to their surprise the blonde man walked past them. Aegnor fell to one knee and lay Starfang at his feet. "King Alistair. Thank you for coming."

Alistair held his stern expression for a moment longer before a boyish grin spread across his face. "Enough of that." He replied, offering his hand. Aegnor grabbed it and returned his grin, before Alistair pulled him into a bear hug. "It's good to see you, brother! You don't write, you don't visit, you don't even send me cheese or keep my roads clear of bandits! Apparently they got it in their heads that it's a bad idea to attack you."

Aegnor smirked. "Look on the bright side. The number of suicides have dropped dramatically."

Alistair sighed dramatically. "Those 'suicides', as you call them, kept their numbers down! Mind you, it's better than it was during the Blight."

"It seemed like half the country had taken to banditry back then." Aegnor agreed.

Alistair chuckled. "They haven't stopped. Now the Banns do their best to commit highway robbery by boring me to death and swiping orchards from their neighbors when I'm not looking."

Aegnor cocked his head. "Does it work?"

"Are you joking? Anora catches them at it, not me. I just sit there and look pretty."

"There's no need to be modest." Aegnor replied. "The way I heard it, you've been quite vocal these last few years. Ruling suits you."

Alistair grunted. "I'm just copying what you did during the Blight. Listen to what people say on the off chance it's worth anything, then do what I think is best."

Aegnor smirked. "That's called ruling, Alistair. And it speaks well of you that you're managing with more people to keep safe and fed than I ever did." He sheathed Starfang, conscious of the soldiers still eyeing him nervously. Alistair waved the soldiers away, and obeyed reluctantly.. "There's a reason you're on the throne and I'm not."

Alistair barked a laugh. "Yeah, and it's because you never wanted it!"

"Of course I never wanted it! The only thing I ever wanted was to keep being Dalish. Still no closer to going back than you are to making a statue of Loghain and propping it up in front of the Royal Palace."

Alistair grimaced. "There's a name I thought had been buried."

Aegnor shrugged. "I'm sorry. I've been thinking of him a lot these past few days."

Alistair looked at him, baffled. "Why in the Maker's name would you do that?"

"Because he and I are very alike." Aegnor replied. "He left Cailin to die because he didn't think he was worth the risk. I just made the same decision with the Herald of Andraste. I'm walking a very thin line between saving what I care about and destroying it." Alistair and he had once agreed on Loghain's cowardice, but looking through the man's memories had changed his mind. He'd had to share them with Alistair before he believed him. Thankfully, their shared distaste for the man kep their friendship strong.

Alistair paused. "Did you have a chance to save him?" He asked. "Was he in front of you, where you could see him, and saving him was as simple as fighting your way to him?"

Aegnor shook his head. "No. He and I got sent through time, actually. I could have tried to move myself to the same time he ended up and rescue him, but I didn't know the exact year, or even the exact location. Rescuing him would have been as unlikely as finding a particular drop of blood on a battlefield."

"Then it wasn't the same." Alistair replied. "I've seen the odds you think are worth taking on. If you backed down, then no one could have saved him."

Aegnor cocked an eyebrow. "Not even a little surprised?"

"About what? Time magic? I learned a long time ago that you and Ellie never joke about that. If you say that you got sent through time, then I assume you know better than I do."

Aegnor sighed, relieved. "Thank you, Alistair. It's nice that someone believes me."

Alistair frowned. "Trouble with the Inquisition? You mentioned some in your letter, but…"

Aegnor pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. "It's been difficult keeping them together with the Herald gone. Most of them believe me when I tell them what happened to him, thanks to Dorian. Apparently, I had so many protective spells affecting me that it warped the intent. Magister Alexius tried to erase us from time itself. Instead, he blasted the two of us into the future, and I took the brunt of the hit."

"I'm not hearing a problem."

Aegnor huffed. "It's Leliana. There are memories that only she has the right to, memories that are my proof of what happened in that future."

"Why can't you show them to anyone else?" Alistair asked.

A flash of pain crossed Aegnor's face. "Ellie was in that future." He said quietly.

Alistair looked stunned. "Are you sure?" He whispered, suddenly conscious of anyone who might be nearby to overhear them. "She disappeared two years ago! What did she say?"

Aegnor shook his head. "Not here, and not now. I don't have the words to explain it. You knew Ellie near as long as I did, so you have the same right to them."

Alistair narrowed his eyes. "You knew where she was, didn't you?" When Aegnor didn't respond, he hissed through his teeth. "You knew for TWO YEARS and didn't tell Leliana? Or me? Or Oghren?"

"I would have." Aegnor said tiredly. "If there was anything you could have done, I would have told you. I would have told everyone."

Alistair frowned. "Aegnor, I trust you. You never keep secrets if you don't have to. But what in Andraste's name could have happened to make you keep this a secret?"

"Because I put her where she is now." Aegnor said heavily. "For all the salt in me, I can't say for certain how she was at Redcliffe in that future. I can only guess. Believe me when I say that she's beyond our reach."

Alistair shook his head in disbelief. "I'll talk to Leliana and see what I can do. This has to end."

Aegnor's mouth quirked, as if trying to smile. "Thank you, Alistair. Truly. I promise you, as soon as Leliana is willing to hear me out, I'll tell you both the whole truth."

Alistair grunted. "I owe my crown, my country, my wife, and my life to you and Ellie. Neither of you have ever let me down, not once. I owe it to you to listen, and I owe it to her to find out for myself what can be done to help her, wherever she is." He looked Aegnor in the eye. "Tell me one thing, though. Do you regret it?"

Aegnor's face fell. "There's many things in my life I've regretted. What happened to Tamlen, what happened to Denerim, what Anders became when he left. Every time I forced myself to move on. The world didn't need my regret, it needed my action, to save what I could no matter how small." He looked back at Alistair. Alistair took an involuntary step back, shocked by the pain he saw. "This is the one time I haven't been able to do that. It's been two years, and still I think of what I could have done differently."

"Have you given up?" Alistair asked quietly.

Aegnor's expression hardened. "No. Someone, or something, is trying to tear apart the south, and would have succeeded if not for me and Ellie. The time for fighting in the shadows is over. I aim to bring them into open war, and show the world what happens when you fuck with me."

Alistair grinned. "There's the Aegnor I remember. If you need support, you know where to find me. Teagan should be grateful to you for reclaiming his home again, if you need allies near Haven." He turned and began walking further into the castle. "Is she in the same room as last time?"

"She is." Aegnor replied, and moved to follow.

"Best I do this alone, Aegnor." Alistair said. "I'll come and find you when she's ready."

* * *

**Alistair**

It took a few minutes for Alistair to orient himself. He hadn't been in Redcliffe castle for years, and his childhood there wasn't as useful as one might think, as he'd spent most of it in the stables. When he finally found his way to the stairs, however, memories came flooding back. Memories of where he'd heard how to kill the Archdemon and, though he'd never told anyone, where he saw his first miracle. Magic it might have been, but he would never forget all the good that had come of it.

Once oriented, his feet carried him to Leliana's room. He was nervous, truth be told. He hadn't spoken with Leliana for a long time, and from what little he'd heard, she'd gotten even scarier working for the Chantry. She still wasn't half as scary as his wife, however, so he knocked three times and waited.

"Who is it?" Leliana asked irritably, muffled by the door.

"An old friend." Alistair replied, smiling. "I hope you didn't forget about me!"

The door opened a few seconds later. "Alistair!" She cried, before pulling him into a tight embrace, one he happily reciprocated. "It has been too long, my friend! I suppose we have both been busy, but that is no good excuse. I should have found time to visit you when I was last in Denerim."

"You were in Denerim?" He asked, surprised.

She nodded. "Oh yes. It wasn't for very long though, it was on business."

He cocked his head. "Business?"

She smiled. "Sorry, Alistair. Much of what has kept me busy is private. Not even your Grand Cleric knew about it."

Alistair chuckled nervously. "Creepy. Probably for the best, though. What little she does know about, she comes to me so she can complain."

Leliana pursed her lips. "Yes, she is not the most agreeable of people."

Alistair snorted. "You're telling me. Do you remember the time she demanded that I arrest Aegnor? Granted, it was right after the mess in Amaranthine, but still. I'm not that stupid."

Leliana's face hardened. "Aegnor. I would rather not speak of him, if you do not mind."

Alistair's smile faded. "I know." He said apologetically. "But he is why I'm here."

Leliana threw her hands ups and spun on her heel. "OF COURSE! Of course everything revolves around him, even you! You are the King of Ferelden, Alistair, you do not need to come when he calls!"

Alistair nodded, taken aback by her sudden outburst. "You're right, I don't. It's polite to show up in person when an old friend writes to tell you that he's retaken a castle, though. He saved me mobilizing half my kingdom to try and take it back."

Leliana scoffed. "The Inquisition reclaimed Redcliffe, not Aegnor."

"You don't believe that." Alistair replied. "You know exactly what he's capable of, just like you know you'd have been as powerless to take the castle as I was before he reappeared."

"Yes. Look at how that ended." She said scathingly. "The Herald of Andraste is gone. We recruited the Mages, but now we have no use for them! We cannot close the Breach, even with all of their power."

Alistair nodded. "That's not the problem, Leliana. It seems impossible-"

"Because it IS impossible!" She shot back.

"Only because you won't let Aegnor help." Alistair replied patiently. "He's done the impossible before, with no regard for what it cost him. Why won't you let him help you?"

"He was gone for two years, Alistair! Two years, where he nearly wiped out the Templar Order, destroyed the White Spire, and after all that he cannot even tell me where Ellie is! I may have trusted him before, but I have changed, and so has he. All he has done is make my task harder."

Alistair's eyebrows shot up at the mention of the White Spire. He took a deep breath. "So let him explain." He said quietly. "This isn't the first time he's acted mad. They still tell stories in Amaranthine about what he did there. Even if you think this time is different, ask yourself this: what does he gain?"

"What would he gain?" Leliana repeated warily. "He does not need to gain anything! He has wealth, power, status-"

"Exactly." Alistair interjected. "And he gained none of it for himself. He could live like a King, more than I do, for the rest of his life with not a care, or return to the Dalish and be with his people, but he doesn't. He stays, and helps, and asks for nothing in return."

Leliana shook her head. "Not nothing. He's asked for armies, fortunes, spies, and every other type of favor."

Alistair nodded. "He has. It's always to help, however. It's always because he knows that he won't be enough."

"He was never enough." Leliana said bitterly. "Ellie did not tell me, but I knew that he would drag her into whatever crisis he had found. I tolerated it, because he was my friend, and he always brought her back to me. Not this time. And I cannot forgive that."

Alistair sighed heavily. "You're a lot more heartless than I remember."

"_What!?_"

"You heard me." Alistair said. "You have a right to mourn. You lost your wife. But I lost my friend. Oghren lost his friend. Zevran lost his friend. She was important to all of us, and it wasn't an easy pain for any of us to bear. I miss her, every day. But can you imagine how Aegnor has been? He knew her the longest. They helped each other through losing their best friends. When Morrigan was being a bitch and I was sulking, they could rely on each other. When Sten was being a pain in the ass and Wynne was busy lecturing the both of them, they could rely on each other. Through the Blight, through the Thaw, and in the years since, he could always count on her, above anyone else. Even Oghren, even me. And now she's gone, and for all the power he's gained, he can't bring her back. He loved her, maybe not in the same way you did, but he loved her. And now, when he most needs our help, you're going to sit here and turn your back on him."

"That does not change what he has done."She said venomously.

Alistair nodded in agreement. "It doesn't. But after all that he's been through, and all that he's done for us both, we owe it to him to hear what he has to say. Even now, after how you've treated him, we both know that he would give his life for you. I don't know how you can doubt that he wouldn't have done the same for Ellie, had he only the chance."

Leliana was quiet after that. Then, "Tell him that I will hear him. And if his reasons are not enough, one of us will not leave this castle alive."

Alistair smiled apologetically. "I am sorry, for what it's worth." He said. "We will speak at length later, as friends, if you are willing. And we can mourn her properly. But you know as well as I that she would want you two to get along, not kill each other." With that, he walked out and shut the door. She did not move to lock it behind him.

* * *

**Bet you didn't see that coming! I figured that Alistair, out of all the party members still alive in Inquisition, had the best chance of convincing Leliana to give Aegnor a chance, and he was set to arrive at Redcliffe anyway. It seemed a bit convenient for him to arrive when he did in the game, so I had Aegnor send him a message here. Makes a bit more sense. Teagan is absent because I wanted to keep the scene simple, and he'd probably need a few more days to get his people ready to move back into the castle anyway. **

**To the Guest who left the 21st review (I have your name from the PM you also sent me, but as it's not listed in the review section I figured you wanted to remain anonymous), I'm a bit relieved that you managed to piece that much together! There are a few details that you're missing, but you've got the bones of what happened, and I'm glad I dropped enough hints for someone to figure it out.**

**Finally, I know Leliana is coming off as a bitch, but she's been through a lot. Justinia died at the Conclave, the Herald with the only Macguffin that can fix things straight up doesn't exist in her timeline anymore, and the guy who always seemed to drag the love of her life into dangerous situations, even after Ferelden was in a time of relative peace, didn't bring her back last time, and didn't even have a body or a halfway decent explanation of what had happened. Aegnor has his reasons, as he'll reveal next chapter, but I don't think there's anyone with enough patience and understanding to not hate him after that scenario, even if he's only a punching bag at this stage. **

**Anyhow, sorry to any longtime readers who got thrown by the switch to the M rating, and if you're enjoying the story please follow, favorite, or review to tell me what's bothering you about it that keeps you from doing either! **


	23. Chapter 23: Aegnor's Nightmare

_The greatest folly of the Chantry is not its desire to control magic. Indeed, their fear of abominations in particular is reasonable. One is capable of great slaughter, and should a particularly powerful demon find a suitable host, the result can be nigh unstoppable. However, even as they curse the Fade as the realm of demons, they do not understand it._

_Demons do not just "appear". They are not inherent to the Fade. They are constructs, formed by great wellsprings of emotion or purpose. A spirit of wisdom may arise from one who is truly wise. By the same token, a raging drunk may give birth to a demon of rage. It would seem, then, that we would be best served by keeping mages in a healthy mental state, to avoid too many demons being spawned and increasing the risk of possession. Instead, we lock them in Circles, watch them ceaselessly, and treat them as less than people. In addition, their status as lesser in Andrastian faith has become so ingrained that we ignore the myriad abuses visited upon them by the Templars, in spite of the scripture that condemns such actions as the province of "maleficar". The term is not meant for blood mages, it is meant for those who transgress against the Maker's children, and mages are no less His than any of us. _

_And so we live our lives, ignoring the building tension. We do so at our peril. When the next war starts, it will birth more demons than any of us can imagine, and Abominations will be spawned by the hundreds. In seeking to protect us, the Chantry may have doomed us all._

_-Brother Reginald, Scholar of Val Royeaux. Deemed subversive by the Templars at the start of the war and imprisoned in Caer Gaol, where he starved to death._

Aegnor stepped into the room, followed by Alistair. Leliana stood there, waiting for him. He gestured. "Please. Sit, both of you. You do not want to be standing for this."

Leliana glared at him, and complied only reluctantly, after Alistair sat first. "Did Alistair tell you?"

Aegnor paused, then nodded once. "He did."

"Then you know the price of lying to me a second time." She said.

"I do." He replied.

She closed her eyes. "Then tell me."

Aegnor shook his head. "Simple words won't suffice. I told you much of the truth before, but what I left out would have taken days to explain fully."

Alistair's eyes widened. "When you said memories, did you _actually _mean..."

"I did." Aegnor said. "You will see what I saw, hear what I heard, think what I thought. I warn you. These won't be pleasant memories. There will be... discomfort, beyond what either of you have felt." He let out a slow breath and focused his mind. "Are you ready?" They nodded. "Then let us begin." He placed a hand on both of their foreheads and pulled them into the Fade.

* * *

Alistair and Leliana tumbled aimlessly through the void. "_Leliana? Can you hear me?" _Alistair asked.

She spun to face him. "_I can. And you can hear me, no?"_

He shook his head. "_I'm not hearing you. It's more like I can feel what you're saying inside my head."_

"_I've been in the Fade before." _She said. _"But it wasn't anything like this."  
_

"_It wasn't like this for me, either." _Alistair replied. "_I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."_

**"_It is neither. You are inside Aegnor's mind." _**They turned and drew their ethereal weapons, expecting a demon, and were greeted by something far stranger. A proud figure, taller than even Alistair, strode towards them, and dark green stone rose to catch his feet. He was garbed in cloth of white and red in a foreign fashion, unknown to both of them, despite them traveling most of Thedas. The red was splashed across the front of his tunic, seemingly on accident, but the shape was that of a dragon with a jagged outline. Elven scrollwork, skillfully done in gold, lined his red cloak, and similar lettering adorned the curved blade at his side. A simple crown sat atop his mane of red hair, its only ornament a sunburst with a white gem set in its center. **_"Do not fear. You are known to me, and I will not let you come to harm. Not even demons of Pride dare tread here."_**

Leliana narrowed her eyes. _"Who are you?" _The figure looked like Aegnor, but different. Aegnor was not so tall, and his face had vallaslin. She furrowed her brow. He looked familiar in some way, she was sure of it.

The figure cocked his head. _**"You do not know, truly? Aegnor rarely speaks of me, yet I had hoped one of you might have guessed." **_Seeing their confusion, he sighed. _**"No, I suppose humans have little insight into the Elvhen. That may be for the best. The Tevinter Imperium needed naught but our empire's ashes to corrupt the Golden City. There are some secrets that should remain forgotten, lest the world shatter 'neath their weight."**_

Alistair kept his sword out, and eyed him with mistrust. _"Answer her. We came for the truth, not riddles."_

**"_And you shall have the truth." _**He replied. _**"I am the first part of the truth behind Aegnor Mahariel. I was there at the start, all those years ago. With a mirror, and a vision." **_He raised one of his hands, and a glass mirror appeared in it. Despite it being less than a foot high, both Alistair and Leliana could tell that Aegnor was staring through it, though it was Aegnor as they hadn't seen in a decade. He was smaller, lankier, clad in deerskins and carrying a curved blade of ironbark. His eyes were determined, but youthful and full of fire and joy. This Aegnor was even younger than either of them had seen. Seeing the difference between what they saw and what they remembered from their first meeting with him was jarring. _**"He has never prayed to me in earnest, yet he freed me from my tomb beneath the earth. When the darkspawn found my body, it was naught but a fetid corpse, bereft of the spark they seek to corrupt with such fervor. I owe him a debt for that, one I cannot repay."**_

Leliana looked at the figure in bewilderment. _"You... I heard Ellie speak of this, once. She had a theory that the Old Gods existed well before Tevinter."_

He nodded. _**"We did. We were tricked, sealed into stone prisons as we sought our old enemy, but our spirits endured. Long had we supped on the prayers of The People, until we were the Gods we claimed to be. Their Dreaming bled into the Waking and made us strong." **_Nine thrones rose behind him, all empty. No two were alike. One was covered in the pelts and skins of every animal imaginable, and a few neither had ever seen, and was crowned with a rack of antlers larger than the horns of a High Dragon. Another had a pair of ravens sat atop it, and a bag of scrolls hung from one of the arms. A third was forged entirely of metal, skillfully worked into scintillating patterns that made it appear alive. The smallest lay at the foot of one carved of white marble and splashed with blood, yet when they gazed upon it, the growling of a wolf could be heard, as if it stood behind them, waiting for a chance to strike. The figure gazed on them fondly, his face turning sad when he saw the one of marble, and hardening when he saw the one below it. _**"We wielded more power than you can imagine, yet I do not find myself mourning it. I was never satisfied with my throne, though it sat higher than any other, and to sit it again would require conquering the world. I find I have no taste for that in this age. I desire only the blood of the one who doomed my empire, thinking his actions would bring freedom to The People. You both know how successful he was in that. Such is my pact with Aegnor. Such is the first part of the truth you seek."**_

_"You sat higher than any other." Leliana said disbelievingly. "Then you are-"_

_**"I Am The Son Who Cast Down The Father. I Am The First Of The People. I Am Elgar'nan, God Of Vengeance. By my power was Aegnor saved, and by his conviction was I kept away from a world that wants no God to rule it, to be reforged from the Dreaming of those Elvhen who still pray." **_He grinned at them with white teeth as fire shone behind his eyes. _**"And through me you peer into Aegnor's memory."**_

* * *

The mind of Aegnor was vast, and very soon became more cluttered than a Val Royeaux parade. Not helping was the fact that there was no indication of which way to go, or even any kind of continuity. Memories from his own life were haphazardly mixed with memories from people neither were familiar with. One recurring memory was an aged Orlesian man with a grey mustache, holding a practice sword and impatiently speaking in broken Ferelden words. Others had nothing but books in them, or lecturers at a university.

_**"I apologize for the mess." **_Elgar'nan said, deftly moving through it all. _**"Aegnor has much on his mind, especially now. He seeks the answer to the one mystery he cannot solve."**_

Alistair frowned._ "And what mystery is that?" _He asked.

_**"The mystery of who is pulling the strings."**_ Elgar'nan replied. **"_He_**_** can see the puppet dance, but the strings are too fine for him to see. He fears that if he does not find out, he will suffer the same fate Ellie did when she was caught unawares."**_

Leliana started. _"Ellie? What happened to her? Tell me!"_

Elgar'nan shook his head. **_"I will not betray Aegnor's trust in this. A god I may be, but I will not cross the one to whom I am indebted. Suffice to say that Aegnor is not the only one who regrets their part in that tragedy." _**He found a small clearing in the stacked memories, and grasped at something they could not see. Somehow, he found a hold on thin air, and pulled. _**"We have arrived. Prepare yourselves. My power can keep you sane, but you may not thank me for it." **_

Before either of them could speak, a shadow rose over them. A massive dragon, forged of obsidian and dripping with blood, descended, far larger than even the Archdemon had been in life. Its flames, black and toxic, engulfed them, and they screamed as they were dragged down by the agony.

_"What... is... happening?" _Leliana choked out, her rage keeping her standing even as Alistair was pulled under.

_**"You wished to see Aegnor's memory of Ellie. How she was taken away from him, what happened to her, what he was forced to do, and why he refused to speak of it until now. Those are the most painful memories he possesses. What else could they form, but a Nightmare?" **_He watched, impassive, as she too was dragged into Aegnor's worst nightmare.

* * *

**Aegnor**

Aeonar was the best kept secret of the Chantry. No one under the rank of Knight Commander had known of its location, nor any priest who wasn't either Grand Cleric or the Divine herself. It was the Chantry's prison for every lyrium-mad Templar, embarrassing priest, and political enemy who spoke out against them. My brief tenure as Warden-Commander had placed me on the list to be "housed" there, and I'm sure that hadn't changed. Conveniently, they had waited until I after the Thaw was finished, and the Grey Wardens were no longer visibly important. My appreciation of their kind offer was such that I had stolen Aeonar's location, along with their records going back seven centuries. After reading them and committing them to memory, I threatened to make a hundred copies and send them to every King, Queen, First Enchanter, and sympathetic Revered Mother in southern Thedas. They backed off after that. To make sure they got the message, I had released the phylactery ritual the Chantry used to track their mages, outlining how it was, unquestionably, blood magic. It had taken months for the riots to die down.

Aeonar remained, but with the Templars rebelled, they still needed a place to keep their prisoners. Only the Seekers who led them knew where it was, along with the garrison they'd placed there. He'd discovered to his chagrin that Seekers were immune to Blood Magic, even his. Finding one who would tell him where it was had been… messy. It had taken him a full month to learn the name: Caer Gaol. It had taken him six months to find it. It was tucked into the mountains of southwest Orlais, more than a hundred miles from any settled area. It was ancient, a remnant of Tevinter and Dwarven engineering, and had caverns large enough to store years of provisions. No caravans of food could be traced, nor were there any villagers who could tell me of where the Seekers with prisoners were traveling.

When I'd heard Ellie's cry for help, I'd been utterly unprepared. I'd had no source of power, no staff, no magical artifacts to let me arrive faster. I'd covered hundreds of miles and crossed an ocean in two days, yet even that was too late. I set my jaw. Not this time. I had brought enough lyrium for a dozen Harrowings. Potions, poultices, salves, grenades, and poisons lined my belt and bandolier. Most important were the three weapons I'd brought with me.

The first was Starfang, forged nearly a decade ago by the master smith Mikhael Dryden. It had been potent during the Blight, but bathing in the blood of the Archdemon had heightened it into a blade without peer. I had yet to find armor, spells, or hide capable of resisting it.

The second was Vigilance, the most powerful weapon ever forged. Starfang was a peerless sword, but Vigilance was a staff, and had no equal in all of Thedas. Where Starfang shone blue and silver, Vigilance was forged from glossy black dragonbone, highlighted with volcanic aurum. Dragons and other great beasts of legend intertwined with each other, spiraling from the base all the way to the top, coming together into a vicious spike. Like Starfang, it was made for one wielder. It squirmed slightly in my grip, just enough to make me aware of it, yet I was fortunate. Others who attempted to pick it up couldn't cast even a basic hex with how much it tried to leave their hand. A dim intelligence emanated from it, recognizing that I was bringing it to its master, and tolerated me for that reason alone. It was also my best proof that it wasn't just Templars that had attacked Ellie. They would have taken her staff. Instead, I had found it in the sewers of Kirkwall, at the center of the rune in its foundation. Not even the most wretched thieves dared to tread there. From what I could tell, she had crawled nearly a mile through the sewers before the Templars came upon her. I could only imagine how weak she must have been at that moment, to leave it behind.

As powerful as the first two were, the third was the greatest. After my battle with the Archdemon, I had released him from his debt to me, on the condition that he come to my aid should I need him. It was he who had kept the Blight from killing me before the Joining ceremony. It was his spark that had first granted me magic, and his influence that allowed me to learn it so quickly. I was loathe to call him now, yet here I stood, feeling his power thrum within my mind. Here I stood, carrying the two most powerful weapons I knew of. Ellie was in there, and I would take no chances. No matter what had been done to her, I would bring her out alive, and leave Caer Gaol a smoking ruin.

"Are you ready, my friend?" I asked aloud.

_**"I am." **_He replied. _**"Be wary. So long as Ellerina is within, I may cause more harm than good."**_

I nodded. "I know. I wouldn't have called you, Hahren, but..."

_**"You worry. You fear. You feed that monster you bonded to yourself, that you might remember all that you've done, and be constrained by the same guilt that plagues others. You know my thoughts on that matter. Yet you are not wrong here. Templars lack the capability to defeat Ellerina. Had it been them, she would have escaped. If there is some other force at work capable of such, I will not abandon you or The People to its whims."**_

I smiled. "Thank you, Hahren." With that, I jumped lightly from my hiding place and landed on the path up to the gates.

Elgar'nan was right. This was no time for my regret. This was no time for my guilt. Everything I had ever accomplished was because I was willing to forge ahead, regardless of the cost. When that wasn't enough, I had my rage, and I remembered it now. My fury built as I added fuel. Memories of every terrible thing the Templars had done to Ellie, and the mages they kept in their prisons. Memories of all the good she had done, good that should have placed her above their petty need for control, added to the flame building in my gut, twisted by the transgression I was here to correct. Most of all, I remembered my friend, my best friend, and how much she meant to me. By the time I was within bowshot of the walls, that flame had dwarfed all the others. They had taken _my __friend. _My best friend. There were no walls that would keep them safe from me.

I saw sentries above the gate. The crest on their armor set me over the edge. "You know who I am!" I bellowed. I was more than a hundred yards away, yet my voice carried easily. "You know why I am here!" I walked closer, and smirked as a dozen Templars with crossbows appeared, aiming them at me. "Lay down your arms, and you shall die quickly!" The stone began to crack beneath my footsteps, crushed by the weight of my magic. "Resist, and I shall lay you to waste!"

In response, a volley of bolts flew out at me. I didn't bother avoiding them. Eight hit me, even at that distance. None scratched my armor. A man in Seeker armor forced his way through the throng of crossbowmen, now reloading for a second volley. "How generous! You would kill us either way!" He shouted back. "And if you are so addled that you think yourself a match for this castle, it will be my pleasure to put an end to your insanity!"

A predatory smile crossed my face. "You have been dead for two years." I replied, still walking towards them. "Ever since you took my friend. There is no walking away from what you have done. I have been patient with the Templars and the Seekers for eight years. That patience is at an end." The second volley approached, now substantially larger from the reinforcements that continued to pour onto the wall. "The weight of your sins will drag you to the Void." The Veil, threadbare from the horrors the Templars had visited on their prisoners, tore at my whim, spawning a tatter-cloaked figure with a stooped back between me and the bolts. They slammed into it, and with a chilling wail it faded. "A Shade, the wisp of those who longed only for death in your care."

"Reload! Reload!" The Seeker yelled, unnerved by the display. He drew his sword, a masterwork of silverite and lyrium, and waved it. _As if that will help him._

Another volley flew out to greet me. The Veil tore again, revealing a demon made of volcanic rock, so hot it flowed like liquid. It unleashed a gout of flame and incinerated the bolts, melting even the steel heads before they reached it. "A Demon of Rage, created from the thoughts of prisoners who raged against you."It sped towards the walls, outstripping me. The Templars on the wall skilled enough unleashed Holy Smites, blasting the Demon back to the Fade. The rest reloaded their crossbows and loosed their bolts. The Veil tore, and a haunting figure dropped out. It was terribly thin, yet it screamed with such force that the bolts were blown off course. It bared its fangs charged. "A Demon of Hunger, born of all those who starve within, and know who it is that starve them."

To his credit, the Seeker stood firm, even when the Demon of Hunger clawed its way up the wall towards him. "Kill the Maleficar! I will deal with his minion." True to his word, he smote the Demon as it reached him, banishing it back to the Fade.

The Veil tore, and a tall figure rose slowly. Its lethargy was maddening to look upon, and its twisted face hung in a mockery of a human, as if it lacked the energy to even make an expression. "A Demon of Sloth, born of those you've tormented who wished for nothing more than rest and respite." The bolts that flew to meet it slowed to a crawl as they grew near. It regarded them with dim interest, before moving past. It retaliated with a wave of frost that claimed two of the Templars, freezing them where they stood. Three more fell to its magic before it was brought low by Holy Smites.

The Veil tore and a woman rose, appearing to each man as the most beautiful they had ever seen. The few Templars with iron discipline to match their reputation saw past the illusion, to the horned fiend with purple skin and flaming eyes that smiled seductively, promising all in exchange for an invitation in. "A Demon of Desire, born of those who wished to be free, who wished only for a last night with their loved ones, who wished that those who tortured them would die in agony." It glided towards them playfully, yet the waves of magic she unleashed were anything but. It floated to the top of the battlements easily and began wreaking havoc among the defenders. It was half a minute before the Seeker managed to land a serious blow, enabling the senior Templars to banish it.

The Seeker moved back to the battlements. "We are warriors of Andraste! Whatever horrors you summon, we shall repel them!"

I laughed, high and cold. "You do not know the meaning of horror, Seeker. If you did, your mind would break. You stand there, proud of what you've done and who you are, proud of the evil you battle, yet fail to recognize the evil that surrounds your Order."

His eyes narrowed. "I've heard enough of your filth. Men! Prepare a sortie!"

"You deny the Fade, yet that does not mean it ignores you." I continued, unbothered. "What you do and who you are leave a mark, no matter how you try to ignore it. One merely has to look at the mark you've left to see what you truly are." I spread my arms invitingly. "Would you like to see what I see when I look at you?"

The Veil tore with an audible rumble that shook the ground beneath us. A titanic figure formed to my left, a full twenty feet tall, with a twisted purple carapace that could deflect all but the most heavily enchanted weapons. Nine eyes shone with malevolent green fire as it beheld the defenders, and lighting formed in its hands. "A Demon of Pride, born of your own mind, Seeker of Truth. And it is not the only one your ilk have spawned." Another formed to my right, then another, then another. Dozens rose, then became hundreds. The Veil was so thinned that I needed no blood, nor did I need Elgar'nan's might. My own power, channeled through Vigilance, was enough for this.

The Seeker's eyes widened with terror as he heard the gate finish opening, to allow his sortie to attack. "SORTIE, RETREAT! CLOSE THE GATE!" He bellowed in desperation. They began to close, before chains of pure lightning grabbed hold of them and pulled. Dwarven-made they may have been, yet gates did not endure a thousand years of neglect without weakening. The demons pull the gate off its hinges, metal shrieking as it was rent and scraped against the stone. Dozens of Templars stood on the other side, forming a shield wall. They may have been enough for a single Pride Demon. I never found out. The battle cry of three hundred Pride Demons sounded throughout the valley as they charged, each unleashing spells powerful enough to kill a seasoned Templar outright.

I poured magic into my limbs and leaped into the air, easily topping the castle walls. When I was at the apex, I spoke. "**This Place Was A Prison." **My voice drowned out even the din of combat, of demonic roars and terrified screams. **"Now It Is Your Tomb. Think On Your Sins, Warriors Of Andraste. If You Had None, I Could Have Summoned No Demons To Oppose You." **I landed inside the castle. In front of me was the door to the inner keep. I raised Vigilance and blasted it open. _I'm on my way, Ellie. Just hold on. _

* * *

**And so the truth emerges! Just a warning, it'll be a couple more chapters before we get back to the Inquisition storyline. and those will be a few more weeks at least. Finals and group projects are kicking my ass at the moment. **

**With regards to Aegnor's flawless record for curbstomping in the Inquisition timeline, I honestly don't think that Aegnor is particularly unreasonable as far as the Warden is concerned. While the Inquisitor stumbles onto magic abilities like they're candy and Hawke does what they can to get by, the Warden has the potential to amass every bit of power they come across, from Avernus' potion to the Arcane Warrior's abilities to Dragon's Blood. Seeing as the Warden is the only one of the three protagonists to kill a literal God, it also seems like them being leagues ahead of the other two is necessary for the world to make sense. Not to mention that they get the most powerful gear (Vigilance, anyone?), the most specializations (4), they reach a higher level than Hawke or the Inquisitor by the end of Awakening (for me, at least). And that's a decade BEFORE Inquisition! **

**As for Elgar'nan, when he says he was reforged by Aegnor, keep in mind how the Fade works. With his physical body gone, Elgar'nan is shaped purely by the thoughts of those who believe in him, which is pretty much just the Dalish. They believe him to be wrathful, powerful, and godlike, but they also believe that he and the other Evanuris were their protectors, and that having them back would be a good thing. By existing in a world that no longer views him as he truly was (from all accounts, a grade-A asshole), he has grown closer to that image. He is still the God of Vengeance, however. What is good for The People may not be good for everyone else. And that Solas guy, is there something familiar about him? Maybe if he shapeshifted into a wolf and tore down the Veil...**

**Please, if you like the story, then review, follow, and favorite! I'm always available via PM (now that I'm checking it _ ), so if you have any questions just let me know!**


	24. Chapter 24: The White Spire

_There are many who say that I am the best swordsman in Thedas. There are fewer who claim I am the most powerful mage. A drunken recruit once told me I was the greatest warrior to have ever lived. None of these things is true, though I appreciate the last one. _

_To the best of my knowledge, Hawke is the best swordsman in Thedas. This is because he has survived this long solely through its use. Ellie is the most powerful mage. This is due to many factors that I cannot disclose here. Suffice to say, she has earned the title many times over. The last one I cannot verify, though if one shares a pint with a Ferelden Warden by the name of Vincent, you can argue the point at your leisure. _

_The simple truth of the matter is that there are powers in this world beyond me, and only rarely have I succeeded with just my blade or my magic. My strength lies in my ability to bring to bear all of the tools at my disposal, and my propensity for accumulating half-forgotten techniques, spells, and alchemical concoctions to ensure that I never run out of tools. Because of this, I have fought Magisters, powerful Darkspawn, Dragons, and even Gods on an equal footing._

_No matter how much I cheat, however, there is one thing I can never forget. There are powers in this world beyond me. There are creatures more ancient than I can imagine, more vast than cities. No matter how many stolen magics I pit against them, it shall be as useless as pitting a thousand arrows against an Archdemon. None will even threaten to pierce its hide. Those who have forgotten this assume that they are invincible, by virtue of what they have faced, and realize too late just how small they really are in this world._

_-The Memoirs of Aegnor Maheriel, arranged in no particular order. Valued by the Grey Wardens for its accounts of rare or unique Darkspawn._

I strode through the halls of Caer Gaol. Templars rushed to oppose me. Holy Smites, Cleansing Waves, and ensorcelled weapons they used to try and slay me. Their lyrium-fueled power shook the stone around us with its force. I moved through it all with the same brisk step, slaying all those bearing the flaming sword as their crest. Starfang cleaved through many with each swing. Vigilance powered my defenses, and such was its power that they barely flickered before the onslaught they endured.

Their war cries were as monotonous as the slaughter. "For Andraste!", "Die, Abomination!", "Maker curse you, Demon!". Their pleas went unanswered. There was only one god in Caer Gaol, and he did not answer human prayers. One even lunged at me, lyrium brand in hand. My vision turned red at the mere sight of it, and he bore the weight of my fury. His mind broke into a thousand pieces, and he fell like a puppet with its strings cut, blood streaming from his eyes and ears.

A dozen figures in black armor stepped out, each bearing a flaming eye as their crest. _Seekers of Truth. _Men and women both, each bore scars and grim expressions that marked them as veterans. They rose their hands as one, and pain, the first pain I'd felt since I'd arrived, shot through my body. I could hear them chanting in unison, and the idea of them being champions of the just struck me as absurd. I laughed then, laughed for the futility of their struggle, laughed because even as they burned the lyrium in my blood, the Taint and Dragon's Blood within me rose to sustain me in its absence. My spells dimmed as my pupils dilated, and the smell of blood around me became intoxicating. The pain searing through my body became little more than a pleasurable distraction.

I walked towards them. "Come now. This cannot be all you have to oppose me. You transgress as none others have dared, and this is all you have to resist my retribution?" The laughter left my voice, and I let a trickle of power enter my voice. **"****Do you have any idea how insulting that is?"**

The one leading them staggered back away from me, as did his followers. "That's not possible! No one, Templar or Mage, can withstand all of us!"

**"I am no Templar. I am no Mage. I am beyond your power." **The pain intensified, and I uttered a soft sigh at the sensation. No Reaver could be stopped by pain alone, and I was no exception.

"W-WHAT ARE YOU!?" He yelled, raising his blade along with his fellows. They formed a shield wall three deep, their discipline perfect even in their terror.

**"What am I?" **A shadow fell over them, cast by ethereal wings that rose from my back. Shimmering scales covered me in a second layer of armor, red as flame yet marred by blackened tendrils that shot through it. White flames shone through my visor, too bright to look upon. **"I am not so easily defined. Behind me is a simple truth, one your brethren in Ferelden learned long ago."**

I pulverized the stone beneath me with my step, closing the distance faster than they could react. **"I cannot be contained!" **Starfang danced out and cleaved four of them with a single swing. **"I cannot be controlled!" **My momentum carried me into the second line, and I smashed three of them into a bloody smear with the force of my impact. My second strike felled the rest, all save the leader, who charged at me with sword held high. Vigilance caught him in the chest, piercing enchanted plate with ease, and I pinned him to the wall with the force. His eyes rolled with terror as he spit up blood, and I grabbed him by his head, forcing him to look at me. **"Know this as you die, ever pathetic, ever fools!"** I crushed his skull and retrieved Vigilance, leaving him to slump to the ground with his fellows and rot.

The pain stopped with the Seeker's death, as did my Reaver bloodlust. The wings disappeared, and the scales faded. If the remaining Templars assumed that I was vulnerable without them, they died disappointed. Their numbers dwindled as I reached the dungeons. Every cell was filled. I let Elgar'nan command his body while I looked at the minds of the prisoners, searching for Ellie while continuing the slaughter. I recoiled when I brushed against one's thoughts. The images alone were enough to make me nauseous, and the emotions that joined them made me wish I'd found a slower death for those responsible. As much as it pained me, I couldn't put them out of their misery peacefully with my attention so divided. They deserved a better death than my harsher magics would grant.

I descended seven levels before I found what I was looking for. I could not sense her, yet her prison could not be hidden from the greenest novice. Enough lyrium to beggar a kingdom lined the stone. For the first time, I got an inkling of how long the Templars and Seekers had kept and maintained Caer Gaol, preparing for the day they would break free from the Chantry. I doubted anyone would ever know how many they kept. Many of those secrets would belong to Seekers of Truth, and even I lacked the power to compel them with magic.

The door was a solid slab of steel, bereft of a window or even a handle, yet the runes worked into the door were simple to decipher. I found some small satisfaction that they had feared her so much that they kept her here, before it was overwhelmed by the desire to see it all destroyed. I hit the locked rune with a Holy Smite, and the door opened. Even my elvish eyes couldn't pierce the darkness within, so I conjured a sphere of flame and floated it into the room.

It was Ellie.

The smell of the room and the state of her ragged clothes were burned into my mind, telling me exactly what had been done to her. It was the same thing that had been done to every Tranquil, man or woman, who was attractive enough. Ellie had been spared in her time at the Circle by virtue of a young Templar's affections, and it sickened me to think that it had happened to her now, so many years free of them. I clenched my fists. _They're dead or dying, _I told myself. _Vengeance can wait, so long as something may still be saved. _I walked forward, attempting to make as little noise as possible, unable to believe that my search hadn't been in vain, and crushed at how much had been done despite my efforts. "Ellie?"

She looked up at me blankly. I choked back a sob when I saw the brand they had strapped to her forehead. "Hello, Aegnor. You are a preferable sight to the Templars."

I knelt down next to her. "Ellie, I'm here to take you home. Will you let me do that?"

She nodded lethargically. "I would prefer not to remain. If you wish to take me with you, I have no objections." She cocked her head at me. "You're crying, Aegnor. Why are you crying?"

I reached up to touch my cheeks and felt the truth of her words. I wiped my eyes and waited for the knot in my throat to leave. "Don't worry about me, Ellie. I'm just... very happy to see you. So happy that I can finally accept how much I've missed you." I reached out and removed her shackles, careful to avoid harming her. I moved up to the brand and grimaced. _They didn't trust that she would stay Tranquil. Fenedhis, I don't know if I can reverse it after this long. _"Ellie, removing this will hurt, but it has to be done."

She shrugged. "If you say so." Her tone hadn't changed. Before my nerve left me, I tore it off with a hiss of scorched flesh. Bits of skin stuck to the lyrium, and underneath was a scar that no amount of magic could heal. She would carry it for the rest of her life. If she felt any discomfort, she didn't voice it.

I picked her up, horrified by how light she was. As strong as I was, it should not have been so easy. "Hold on tight, Ellie." I said gently. Blessedly, she did, and I sped out of the dungeon as quickly as my legs could carry me. _My apologies, Elgar'nan. Nothing was here that warranted you presence. You need not remain._

**_"There was not. Yet remain I shall. You called me to rescue your Ellerina, yet to my senses you hold nothing more than a corpse. The task you called me for is not complete."_**

I sighed in relief. _Thank you, my friend. _As I ran, I devoted my attention to the prisoners I had ignored before. They passed away peacefully.

_**"You are welcome. I await the day when you pray to me."**_

I left Caer Gaol a smoking ruin. The Pride Demons were bound there, and would remain until the last stone was torn down. I trusted them to the task. Vengeance was not so important as this, and there was only one person I knew who could help me with Ellie.

* * *

I sat by the fire, impatient. It had taken me four days to reach the White Spire, and with Ellie defenseless, I'd had to sneak in to ensure her safety. I preferred the Loyalist Mages to the Templars, yet trusting them with something this delicate was foolish at best. My presence was still anathema to the Chantry as well, and I didn't want to give them reason to squawk and complain. I hadn't the time or patience for it.

Ellie sat with me by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly while we waited. Had she been whole, she and I would have been chatting amiably, her about Leliana's latest song or some way Garahel had antagonized Schmooples ll, me about my latest cooking failure or a promising recruit I'd come across. Many of our discussions were serious or arcane, but it was the mundane, the comforting, the domestic that I missed the most. She had taught me how to have hobbies, as much through her ever-changing interests as through her insistence that I set down my sword once in a while. Sad as it was to admit it, Ellie was my only real friend. Since I'd moved to Amaranthine, I hadn't even kept in contact with the Dalish who had settled in the south. To lose her...I prayed that I hadn't come here in vain. Worse was the sense that Ellie was in there somewhere, begging me to help her. Imagining her stuck in that body, unable to truly live for years and decades on end, scared me even more.

The door opened, and I swatted aside the the spell that came through. "Calm yourself. It's just me."

The woman, staff still at the ready, stepped into the room. Her hair was a bit whiter, the lines on her face a bit deeper, but there was no mistaking her. "Warden." Wynne said, equal parts surprise and wariness coloring her voice. "You are getting far too old to be pulling pranks like this." She looked past me and frowned. "And who have you brought with you?"

I gave a faint smile. "It's good to see you, Wynne."

She huffed. "There's no need for that. You and I both know we didn't part on good terms."

I nodded in agreement. "True. That didn't stop me from sending Wardens to secure the White Spire when the Templars rebelled. If not for me, Lord Seeker Lambert would have slaughtered every Mage here." I smiled at her surprise. "And contrary to popular belief, it is exceedingly difficult to make me carry a grudge. To date, I only have four, and you're not one of them."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what are those?"

I counted on my fingers. "Undead, after my first experience with them. Darkspawn, for obvious reasons. Loghain, for attempting to kill me, directly or indirectly, so many times that not even I could forgive him." I paused.

Wynne's eyes narrowed. "And the fourth?"

I sighed. "Templars. They're the reason I'm here." I turned to Ellie. "Ellie?" I prodded her gently. She jerked slightly, having dozed off. "Ellie, Wynne is here."

Wynne frowned. "Come now, there's no need to treat her like a..." She saw the mark on Ellie's forehead as she turned, and her hand went to her mouth. "Maker have mercy..."

I grimaced. "It's a long story, and I'd prefer to tell it only once. I'll gladly do so when we've gathered everyone, but right now Ellie comes first."

Wynne nodded hurriedly. "Agreed. This is no time to cluck like other women my age. What do you need?"

I frowned slightly. _She doesn't know? The Seekers kept this secret better than I thought. _"There's only one cure for Tranquility that I'm aware of, and you're the only person I know of who can manage it."

"There's a cure for Tranquility!?"

I nodded. "There is. Ordinarily, it requires the touch of a Spirit. Yours is a Spirit of Faith, and a powerful one at that. I trust it more than any other to bring her back as gently as possible."

"There's more, isn't there?" Wynne asked. "It can't possibly be that simple. Someone would have found the secret by now!"

"There is." I replied. "But not normally. The Seekers of Truth have, ironically, kept the secret for centuries, and ensured that no one discovered it on their own. They've quietly stifled all such research." I gestured to Ellie. "Here, it's not so simple. They kept a lyrium brand on her for months. It will take two of us to reverse it, if it's even possible."

Wynne's eyes widened. "I shall have many questions for you, Warden. Most of them can wait, however. What do you need to do?"

I pulled out my bag of lyrium and placed it on the table. "I'll have to combine three rituals. The first is the Harrowing, where lyrium is used to send a Mage into the Fade."

"Ellie's not a Mage, not now." Wynne replied, skeptical. "The Harrowing won't work."

"Not on its own." I agreed. "Which is why I'll need to use an Elven ritual alongside it. It's capable of sending Dwarves into the Fade, so it should work for Tranquil. Ellie's connection has been burned away entirely, more so than even Dwarves, so I'll need the lyrium to force her into the Fade and keep her there long enough."

Wynne shook her head in disbelief. "Your ability to ferret out magic unknown to me has not waned, I see. What is the third?"

"A Blood-"

"No!" She interrupted me, her face turning livid. "Blood Magic solves nothing! I had hoped you would have realized that by now."

I scowled. "This is not the time Wynne. If nothing else, you owe me your life, and the lives of every Mage here. I'm not asking you to use Blood Magic, but it is necessary, and I am NOT going back to Leliana to tell her Ellie is fucking Tranquil!"

"Don't take that tone with me!" She replied sharply. "Blood Magic is never necessary. You're making the same mistake that Uldred did."

My scowl deepened. "Wynne, I am the foremost expert in Blood Magic and Demonology in Thedas. That you don't bother to learn the first thing about either doesn't make your opinion worth more than mine. It is necessary, in this and many other things. End of story."

"Very well." She said tightly. "On your own head be it."

"It always is." I replied. _Thank you for reminding me why we don't get along. _"Back to the point. The Blood Ritual is Demonic in origin, similar to what the Sloth Demon used on us in the Circle. It will allow me to enter the Fade and reshape it, to ensure your Spirit safe passage."

"Safe passage?"

"Yes, safe passage." I replied. "Ellie and I both have powerful wards surrounding our minds, to keep anyone from entering without permission. After encountering The Architect, she and I agreed that such a thing was necessary. I know the keys to her mind, but another deterrent is the amount of power required to actually unlock them. If your Spirit attempted to contact her without power or key, it would be torn apart."

Wynne glanced at Ellie. "And what does she think about this? From the sound of things, there's great risk to everyone involved. "

Ellie turned to Wynne. "I would prefer it if you did this." She said firmly.

Wynne looked taken aback. "Tranquil hardly ever have opinions that strong." She said, surprised.

I was confused as well, but I shrugged. "I can't really explain it. It could be that any exposure to the Fade can reverse the process slightly, and I used magic for the entire trip here. It's a good sign, at least." _I hope. _There were no certainties in this. No Tranquil in any written record had been anything but docile, bereft of anything but the most banal preferences. It was enough to make them sleep on a bed instead of the floor, but even preferences for food and drink were obliterated. If a Tranquil who had once enjoyed meat was offered meat or bread, they might take the bread simply because it was closer. That Ellie defied this, more and more over the last few days... no, I couldn't think about that. If there was a chance, any chance, then I would take it.

Wynne seated herself next to Ellie. "If there's more to this, then I do not care to know it. Prepare your ritual, Warden. I pray that the Maker has mercy on us, fools and children both." I opened my mouth to respond, before shutting it again. _It never ends well. _I think Wynne knew it too. She was too set in her ways, and I could no more give up Blood Magic than I could stop being a Grey Warden. We had parted on poor terms after she heard what I'd done in Amaranthine, and her staunch refusal to support the Circle seceding from the Chantry further soured things. Ellie watched us with muted eyes, once again quiet. Whatever aversion to Tranquility lingered, her exasperation with Wynne and I arguing hadn't survived.

I began with the lyrium. Half of it went into a bowl in the center of the floor, to be used for the Harrowing. It was many times the lyrium normally used, yet he needed to be sure that Ellie's connection to the Fade could be maintained after so long with the brand. Next was the Tevinter Rune, similar to what the Architect had used to catch Ellie off guard all those years ago. The rest of the lyrium was needed for that. It was Demonic before it was Tevinter, and it would take both it and him to access Ellie's mind. Last were the alterations to the ritual. Demons and Tevinters had no need to send Dwarves into the Fade, so Elvish magic was needed to ensure Ellie could even be sent into the Fade.

He gestured to Ellie and Wynne. "Stand, both of you, and place your staffs in the bowl." They did so, Ellie holding Vigilance, Wynne holding her own staff. They went rigid as they did so, nearly falling over, before a quick spell steadied them. _No time to delay. This will need to be perfect. _Wynne was in the Fade already, but Ellie was not. He knelt and slammed his hand into the activation rune, and the lines of lyrium glowed white as it activated. Ellie shuddered once before he sensed her mind being forced into the Fade. The rune flickered slightly with the strain, but mercifully it held. "Now for myself." He said aloud, and knelt. Bereft of a staff, he took a deep breath and plunged both hands into the bowl of lyrium.

* * *

**Managed to finish up a bit more before finals are in full swing. Remember, I do my best to proofread my chapters, but some screw ups still make it through. If you see any, let me know so I can edit it! **


	25. Chapter 25: Ellie's Nightmare

_The intervention of Grey Wardens at the White Spire is merely the most recent example of them extending their reach beyond their intended purpose. They have done so before, many times since the Fifth Blight, and even before in the Dryden Rebellion that saw them ousted from Ferelden. _

_Four days before the Templars declared the Nevarran Accord dissolved, Aegnor Mahariel, the acting Warden Commander of Ferelden, sent orders Amaranthine. What was in those orders is the subject of much speculation, as were many things at the time. Ellerina Amell, the nominal Warden Commander, is missing, and Aegnor has been in the field for months, tracked only by scattered reports, oftentimes at opposite ends of Southern Thedas in the same week. Neither of these have been explained, despite numerous inquiries, and contact has yet to be made with either._

_What is known is that fifty Wardens and three-hundred soldiers of the Silver Order marched from Amaranthine and crossed the Orlesian border in the chaos of the civil war, led by Oghren Kondrat. Marching with unheard of speed, they arrived at the White Spire in time to smash the Templar and Seeker forces moving to seize it. Estimates place the body count at over a thousand dead or injured, the vast majority of them Templars. _

_As a result, the White Spire remains in the hands of loyalist Senior Enchanters and Chantry forces, and the Templars were forced to retreat. While the Amaranthine host returned home immediately thereafter, only forty-four Wardens have been confirmed by Chantry agents, with six unaccounted for. It is entirely impossible that they were slain in battle, but given the caliber of the Amaranthine Wardens, the more likely scenario is that they were left behind to monitor the situation in Orlais and, if necessary, intervene. Thus far we have been unable to find evidence of this, which is likewise unsurprising. The Amaranthine Wardens are rumored to have had a former Antivan Crow train them in stealth, and our own agents lack such expertise. _

_-A memo distributed among leaders of the Chantry in 9:39 Dragon, before the White Spire's destruction._

**Aegnor**

I opened my eyes, and beheld Elgar'nan. His face, usually calm and assured, was lined with worry. **"Aegnor, there is still time to turn back."**

"Not an option." I replied firmly. "Ellie can't remain Tranquil. She told me she would rather die."

**"Then kill her." **He said sadly. **"It may be a kinder fate than the cure."**

I glared at him. "You said nothing of the sort until now. Why?"

He met my gaze. **"I cannot see outside of the Dreaming, save through your eyes. I only saw the true damage done to her now, with her mind once again joined with the Dreaming."**

"Then show me." I said.

Elgar'nan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. **"Follow me." **He turned and strode away, and I made sure to keep up. Ordinarily, traversing the Fade was more involved for me. I was quick, clever, and had both the respect of Spirits and the fear of Demons. These were enough to see me arrive safely where I wished. Elgar'nan needed none of that. He walked, and the Fade reshaped itself to catch his footsteps, to take him by the shortest route. It had rankled me at first, but there was nothing I could do to change that gap between us. Diminished as he was, Elgar'nan was a God. I was strong. He _was._

However, for the first time, Elgar'nan walked cautiously. While he always wore a sword, it shocked me when he conjured a suit of armor, intricate and alien even to me. A chill shook through me. _He's afraid. _It was impossible. There might be something that caught Ellie by surprise, but there was nothing in the Waking or the Dreaming that Elgar'nan should fear.

"Elgar'nan, what is it?" I asked hesitantly.

He didn't respond for a time. Then. **"I am not the eldest in the Dreaming. Most of those older than me are dead, or slumbering, but some... some have endured. I have no names for you that would mean anything, nor do I know where they are. They will be as different now as I am from when I ruled the Elvhen."**

"It was one of them?" I asked.

He shook his head. **"You desire answers. I have none. For that, I am wary." **He stopped, a motioned for me to move up beside him. **"Behold your Ellerina." **I did so, and saw a blasted landscape.

Ellie was gone.

What had once been a mind teeming with life and memory lay in ruin. Minor Spirits and Demons scattered at our arrival, and the wisps remained, too simple to be troubled by our presence. They were all that was left. I had never intruded upon Ellie's thoughts as I did others, but I knew the feel, the shape of her mind. What I saw now was a cruel mockery of what she once was. Most shocking of all was what remained of the wards we'd placed around her mind. They had been blasted apart, and only faint traces lingered. "Is she..."

**"We are still at the outskirts." **Elgar'nan reminded me. **"If she remains, she has likely retreated to the deepest recesses of her mind." **

I paled. "Creators, no."

Elgar'nan looked puzzled. **"You have come this far, and you refused to let me dissuade you. Why does this give you pause?"**

I sighed heavily. "Because I know where she is. I had hoped to never again drag her from it." I gestured. "Wait here. I'll go in alone."

**"That is not wise." **He replied. **"You may yet need me."**

"True." I said. "But you might scare her. If she is where I fear, she will flee from one as strange to her as you, and we may not be able to catch her."

He inclined his head. **"As you wish. Be careful, Lethallin."**

I smiled faintly. "I will, Hahren." With that, I strode into the labyrinth that was Ellie's mind. I unveiled my presence, acting like a beacon to Wynne's Spirit. She glided serenely behind me, her features indistinct. _It's a good thing I came too. There is no ward to keep her out, yet I doubt even a Spirit of Faith could find Ellie when she wants to remain hidden. _A few demons saw my beacon and were foolish enough to approach. Elgar'nan broke them in his hands.

In the Fade, time is strange. I know not how long I delved into Ellie's mind. It felt like a lifetime, made all the worse by my knowing what was supposed to be here, and wasn't. I didn't despair. It is never quick, nor easy, to arrive at the center of a person. It takes even longer when that center lies many years in a person's past, so far back that they can remember it only vaguely. I reshaped my form, removing the trappings of war, and gentled my presence in the Dreaming. It was a risk, but one I would have to take.

At last, I found it. The narrow stone halls opened up into a memory. A starry sky, unblemished by any cloud, stretched out above me. The smell of wet earth, clean water, and Ferelden pine wafted through the clearing. A large fire crackled merrily, adding to the aroma. I stepped closer, warming my hands and sighing contentedly. _I missed this. _It wasn't home to me, not quite. My mind had always gone to my memories of my clan. Even so, I looked around at the familiar faces, and felt nostalgia well up inside me. Oghren, Sten, Shale, Morrigan, Alistair, Zevran... everyone was here. We few who had gone on to reshape the world. They were memories, and I couldn't speak to them, but seeing them again comforted me greatly. Some I hadn't spoken to in years.

I found myself, and marveled at how I had changed. I was going through the advanced drills of the Vir'Misulahn, and I couldn't help correcting the tiny mistakes I saw, mistakes I hadn't noticed until years later. The regret I felt when I saw my father's blade surprised me. _Starfang is superior in every way... but that sword meant something to me. _Its destruction was one of the few time's I'd mourned an object.

Morrigan was next, and I found that my emotions surrounding her, as always, were so mixed as to be undefinable. Nostalgia, regret, joy, shame, arousal... I had kept her ring, yet I'd never tried to find her. _Is that good or bad? _Surely if I cared for her, it was right to respect her wishes? Or should I have followed her to the ends of the earth? Could I have placed her above every other responsibility weighing me down after the Blight, even if I'd wanted to? I had no answer for those questions. I wasn't sure I even wanted them.

Eventually, I pulled myself away from my own reverie, and walked over to the one tent I had yet to examine. I crouched and opened the flap. Inside, Leliana lay back in a nightshirt with Ellie leaning back into her, similarly dressed. Her eyes were closed as Leliana brushed her hair and whispered sweet nothings into her ear. She was content, as content as she ever had been in her life. It was here she had come before, when the Sloth Demon had imprisoned them. It was here she would most like to remain, undisturbed, for eternity. And I was here to pull her back out to face what had been done to her.

"Ellie?" I said gently. "Ellie, it's me, Aegnor."

Her eyes opened. "Aegnor? What is it? And why do you look so strange?"

I smiled sadly. "I look strange because I am not a part of this memory. I never intruded on you and Leliana, not once."

She frowned. "Memory? What..." She looked uncertain.

I placed my hand on Leliana's foot. She didn't react, when in life she most certainly would have. "You've been gone for a while, Ellie. I'm here to bring you back, to Leliana, to everyone. To me."

She blinked. "Are you sure?" She asked. "Leliana's here. Everyone's here. I'm... I'm happy. Happier than I can remember being."

I nodded. "I know. This isn't the first time you've come here."

"I don't want to leave."

"I know you don't." I replied gently. "No one wants to leave a good dream. But I promise you, if you leave, this time there will be no more bad memories to hide from. I'll make sure you and Leliana are together, for good this time."

"You mean it?" She asked, almost childlike.

I nodded. "I mean it." I did, too. I needed her help desperately, but she had earned retirement. She should have had it far earlier. I could ask no more of her. "I just need you to get up and meet a friend of ours."

She rose, and Leliana let her go, a puzzled expression on her face, but making no move to go after her. She couldn't. Leliana hadn't gotten up in this memory. I took Ellie by the hand and led her out of the memory, to where the Spirit of Faith waited patiently.

"I can take you this far, Ellie. She can take you the rest of the way." The Spirit of Faith enveloped Ellie in a motherly hug, and began walking her back out through the same halls I had just navigated. Memories began to rush back into place, slowly at first, then faster as we got further and further out. _There you go, Ellie. _It would be some time before she was back to normal. No mind, not even hers, would be unchanged after what had been done to her. Ellie was strong-willed, however, and she would have good people to help her. She would heal. That was what I thought.

I was horribly, horribly wrong.

We had nearly reached the end of the labyrinth when the last memories fell into place. I had assumed that, Tranquil as she had been, those memories wouldn't have been there. Instead, I saw every moment of the past months in horrid, vivid detail, and so did she. "You'll be fine, Ellie." I implored. "I'm here. They aren't. They never will be again." It was like talking to a stone. The docile, childlike state she'd gone into to protect herself fell away as more and more memories flooded back, and now she grew darker. "Ellie?"

Her eyes met mine, fixing me in place. A dozen emotions played across her face in an instant, resolving into fear. "I'm so sorry, Aegnor." She whispered. Then, with the final memory, her fear became mindless, molten rage. Soundless thunder blew me off my feet. I reached out to protect the Spirit of Faith as it tried to embrace Ellie, to comfort her. I was too late. Ellie seized it in her hands and drank in its power, strengthening her connection to the Fade, before letting what little remained drift away like so much debris in a current. She turned back to me, and I feared for my life. Her magic, always leashed, was flowing back into her. The world had never seen Ellie lose control before. I would be the first to see it.

Elgar'nan was at my side instantly. **"I will protect your mind. Protect your body." **With that, broke the spell and threw me from the Fade.

My eyes opened. Wynne stood, suspended by my spell, but she had stopped breathing. Without the Spirit to sustain her body, there was nothing keeping her alive. _Mourn later. _I conjured every protection I had around myself. I unslung my Heartwood Shield, a masterwork from Wade, and channeled power into it. Wards sprang to life, worked into the wood with lyrium. All of this took me less than a second. It was then, as I put the shield between myself and Ellie, that I recognized the compulsion Elgar'nan had placed on me. I fought it, desperate to do something, _anything _to get to Ellie. I hadn't come this far to lose my friend, let alone treat her as my enemy. But Elgar'nan was a god, and he was inside my mind. My wards couldn't protect me, and not even I could throw off a spell cast by him in a split second.

Then Ellie broke free of my spell, and everything went white.

* * *

The blast smashed into me like a sledgehammer, driving the breath from my lungs. I dug my feet into the stone beneath me, only for the stone itself to shatter and be cast aside. I flew backwards like a comet, fast enough that I could feel the air ignite behind me. I tried to see through the light, but even with my Fade-enhanced eyes, I was utterly blind. The flames from the blast gnawed at my spells, hot enough to melt steel and stone in seconds. Wade's shield chipped, cracked, and finally shattered, leaving me to take the brunt. After a long second, I slammed into the ground, carving a trench nearly fifty feet long before coming to a stop. I snapped my fingers. The shockwave cleared away the smoke filling my crater, and the light died down enough for me to see the destruction.

The White Spire was gone.

All that was left was a crater, hundreds of feet across, and so deep I couldn't see the bottom from where I lay. The light had faded, revealing Ellie, flying towards me with Vigilance held as a lance. I attempted to avoid it, to parry, but Elgar'nan flared my fighting instinct and instead I stepped inside her strike. In a single motion, I drew Starfang and cleaved her from shoulder to hip. Her body flew past me. _ELGAR'NAN! _

**"Calm yourself. She is not dead. You have learned much in your life, yet you must trust me now. That is not Ellie."**

_Screw that, and screw you. _I spun and rushed to reach Ellie, expecting to find her bleeding out. Her protective magic was powerful, yet Starfang had cut through it like wet paper. She would need healing magic. Even as I did so, I was struck with a Vulnerability Hex and a Death Hex. My Spell Shield flared, dispersing them, before a Storm of the Century hit me. Cast by most mages, it could devastate entire battalions. Cast by Ellie, it tore up the ground beneath me forced me to retreat. I stayed in it for less than a second, yet my Spell Shield had been nearly stripped away. "ELLIE!" I bellowed. "ELLIE, IT'S ME! IT'S AEGNOR!"

**"She cannot hear you."**

I ignored him. "STOP, DAMN IT! IT'S OVER! THEY'RE DEAD! THEY CAN'T HURT YOU!" Ellie responded with a torrent of flame and a barrage of stone, showering me in lava. I countered with Starfang, scything through it until its very connection to the Fade was severed, leaving it to disintegrate. Looking closer at Ellie, I saw the wound I had made, deep enough to hit the spine, had already healed with not even a scar.

**"Your chance is fading. Slay her, before she recovers from the destruction of the White Spire. You are the best hope of The People. I cannot let you be slain here."**

_That isn't your decision, Hahren. _I summoned a Force Field, attempting to immobilize her, but her Spell Shield outstripped even mine and withstood it easily. I met similar results with Paralysis and Sleep, and I didn't dare attempt to use Blood Magic. "Ellie, please! Calm down! No one else has to die!" _Elgar'nan, if you're going to tell me anything, tell me how to calm her! _

**"I warned you. Tranquility is unknown to me, and curing it is unknown to any save those with no wit to understand it. Your Ellie may recover, but if she slays you, the destruction she could wreak is unthinkable."**

_She wouldn't do that. That has never been her way._

**"She was tormented for seven months. Her fury may well last that long, or longer. If she slays you here, there may well be no one capable of stopping her. No one, not even The People, could hide from her then."**

Ellie's assault continued, combining traditional spells with her own battle-magic. Bereft of a staff, I could barely keep up with her, and the few spells I slipped past couldn't pierce her defenses. I was forced to use Starfang to parry her spheres as they surrounded me, taxing my concentration. _Elgar'nan, please! A spell, a ritual, a location, anything! _

**"Perhaps Dirthamen would have the answer you seek. I have none. Slay her, or else."**

_Or else what?_

**"She will become the first human Evanuris. Not even you could withstand her then."**

I set my jaw. _To the Void with that. _One thing was clear, however. I was running out of options, and Ellie's power was growing. Her connection to the Fade was beyond my own, and that gap increased with each passing second. The Veil itself was tearing around her. I was not tiring, yet I couldn't cast spells fast enough to match her. _Sorry Ellie. _I leaped towards her and sacrificed my spell shield to block her counterattack. I drew back Starfang for a strike, causing her to raise Vigilance, before planting it in the ground and pushing off of it with all my might, avoiding her guard. My armored feet smashed into her torso, reducing it to a bloody ruin, and sent her careening backwards.

A pang of worry shot through me, before I quashed it. _It will be a few seconds at most before she's back. _I tapped into my Combat Magic even further, increasing my speed, and uncorked one of my salves in record time. It was one of my personal concoctions, a five-chambered mix, and I doused myself in it. Next, I downed four full lyrium potions, as potent as I could make them, and a healing potion besides. Power flared through me, and every hurt down to the smallest bruise faded, leaving me refreshed. _She doesn't have the same resources I do. Even if she is stronger, I can outlast her. _I re-summoned my Spell Shield and brought Starfang into a front guard. _Once she's worn down, I can try disabling her again. After that... I don't have any options nearby. But if I have to reach the Temple of Sacred Ashes again for a cure, then I'll do it._

As I'd predicted, Ellie flew back towards me, her bloodstained shirt the only evidence of the wounds I'd dealt. Instead of waiting for her, I charged, meeting Vigilance with Starfang. The ground beneath us shattered with the force of our blows. The air around us was blown back, leaving a vacuum. I struck high and she blocked, her form perfect, before countering with Vigilance's spike. I shifted to the right, circling around her, and pivoted my sword into a slanting cut. Vigilance pierced the space where my head had been, and Starfang struck home just ahead of her next parry, cleaving off the top of her skull. _Don't think about it. _Even in my adrenaline-fueled view, she regenerated near-instantaneously. _It is never so easy to slay a Spirit Healer. _Her connection to the Fade was now so strong that she didn't even need to consciously heal herself.

I followed up with a second slanting cut, pivoting to her other side. Instead of trying to parry, she rammed Vigilance into my chest. Archdemon-bone plate chipped as I twisted, letting the spike glance of, and severed her right arm. She attempted to force me away with a Firestorm, hoping to recover, but I simply allowed it through my Spell Shield. _Can't give her room to cast spells. _She could cast all but the most powerful spells before I could react, but those were not the ones I had to worry about. Without Wade's shield, I wouldn't survive another spell like the one she used to destroy the White Spire. Between my salves, my armor, my Combat Magic, and my natural resilience, I could simply ignore her elemental attacks, and rely on my Spell Shield and the Spellward to protect me from the rest of the spells she could cast quickly. I stepped forward into the flames, unharmed, and cut her in half at the waist.

**"Aegnor, you know that will not slay her."**

_No shit! I'm not going to try. Doing this much is eating away at me. But I'll do whatever I have to if it means curing her._

**"I cannot be of help in that. Mine is not the power of healing."**

_I know. I'm still doing this my way. _With tears streaming down my face, I pressed on. Ellie was the toughest opponent I'd ever encountered. Her Combat Magic heightened her physical prowess to match mine, and I had trained her personally. She was likely the foremost expert of the staff in Thedas. She knew many of my tricks, and her weapon was capable of piercing my spells and armor with a single thrust. For all that, without her spells, she couldn't match me. I had closed the distance, and I didn't let her get away. Her primal spells couldn't harm me. Her hexes couldn't pierce my spells. Her battle-magic couldn't overwhelm the Spellward with me this close. Through it all, I continued my attack. There were no pauses, no moments of hesitation. A second would pass, and she would regenerate from a dozen mortal wounds. The next second, I would pressure her further with two dozen. Only Vigilance's spike could pierce my armor, and I forced myself inside of its reach. We moved too fast for mortal eyes to see, and it was only by Dreaming of faster eyes that we could keep up with each other's movements.

Ellie attempted to take a breath, and couldn't. _This is one secret I never taught you. _With how fast we were fighting, the air never had a chance to fill the vacuum we created. There was no way to breathe. I had long ago devised a spell to circumvent this. She hadn't. Her face was rapidly turning purple as I continued. The blood of ten thousand had surrendered their power to me, granting my body endurance that Ellie couldn't hope to reach, even if she could breathe freely. Her fury had overcome her mind, her greatest weapon that far outstripped me, and without it even this simple tactic wore her down.

**"And so your folly is realized. You are out of time."**

_What? _As I asked, Ellie caught Starfang with a bare hand. _Oh. _Faster than I could follow, she backhanded me, breaking every bone in my skull and neck. The pain overwhelmed me for a brief, terrifying moment, before I called on the Dragon's Blood flowing through my veins. Even pain like this was nothing to a Reaver. My bones knitted back together, and my magic forced my jaw back in place. I reoriented myself and landed on my feet, only for a wave of green stone to rush towards me. I attempted to block it with a wall of ice, and was caught off guard when it flowed around and smashed into me. Two punches shattered it, but it reformed and continued to batter away at me. _Stone that flows like fire. _She'd seen how little effect the elements had, so she was going to try overwhelming me with sheer trauma.

_You're not the only one who can play at this. _I summoned Elemental Chaos, and channeled Spell Might into it. The swirling maelstrom tore away the stone faster than it could approach me, and I charged forward. I couldn't see Ellie, so I enhanced my ears, and managed to hear her gasping for breath. _There. _I summoned a Storm of the Century and concentrated it into a bolt of lightning before throwing it in her direction. We'd torn up the countryside to the point that no trees were left, and Vigilance acted as a lightning rod in their absence. Her Spell Shield didn't even flicker as it shrugged it aside. _Elgar'nan?_

**"We were known as Gods for a reason, Aegnor. I warned you. Your weapons may harm her, but only if you fight to kill."**

_I didn't expect this to be easy. I still have three cards left to play_. "ELLIE! LET ME HELP! I DON'T WANT TO DRAG YOU TO A CURE, BUT I WILL IF I HAVE TO!" She ignored my words, and teleported next to me. As she swung Vigilance, it warped, the ebon bone and golden metal flowing into a new shape. What emerged was a blade and haft, as much staff as sword. _She saw that Starfang outstripped Vigilance, so she changed it to cut through my armor. _The realization chilled me. _She's still thinking. _She may have been blinded by rage, reduced to only her base cunning, but her base cunning was no small thing. I parried with Starfang, and winced as it protested. The force of her blow drove me to my knees, and she leaped upward, thrusting its point over my guard and towards my head. I wound my blade around hers to close off the line and thrust into the opening I'd made, yet she was no longer there. _She teleported! _Before I had the chance to move, I felt her blade enter the back of my neck, piercing my armor like cloth.

I gasped. Without my magic, I would have been killed instantly. As it was, my entire body erupted in sensation, difficult to ignore even for a Reaver. I tried to swing Starfang behind myself to force her away, but she teleported yet again, this time emerging below me. Vigilance stabbed me through the gut, and she leaped up with her knee extended, shattering my jaw again and propelling me into the air. I fought back as best I could, but there was nothing I could do. When she was weakened from destroying the White Spire, I'd held an edge physically. Now, she outstripped me in every basic respect, and her power had soared to such heights that she could teleport effortlessly. Dimly, I sensed her sifting through memories of me, finding every memory of her training to execute a move perfectly, and finding every memory she had of me fighting, to counter my every action. Vigilance sheared through me with impunity. Even with lyrium and healing potions coursing through my veins, I couldn't heal as quickly as she could. Already, I could feel my body failing. I closed my eyes. _So be it. _I recalled my lessons with Justice, and my body flared with purple light.

Vigilance descended to cleave me yet again, and passed through my body entirely. Ellie sped up, determined to finish me off, but I simply moved my body into the Fade wherever she struck. Not even Vigilance could cut the Dreaming from the Waking realm. I thrust with Starfang, forcing her to teleport behind me, and followed up with a blast of energy centered on myself. Her protective spells couldn't block the primal fury of the Fade itself and shattered, leaving her exposed. _Got you. _I swung again, and she teleported, still too fast to be caught off guard. With her spell protections gone, however briefly, it didn't matter. I summoned Elemental Chaos again, and her attempt to blindside me fell short. Fire, ice, acid, and lighting ate away at her. She screamed. In that small opening, with Ellie blinded by fire, deafened by thunder, and utterly unprotected, I wove the most powerful binding in my arsenal. I drew power from the blood that drenched the stones beneath us, our blood. I drew power from the lyrium I had consumed. I drew power from the Taint coursing through my veins. Then I closed the distance and placed a bloody hand on her scarred forehead.

A prison of force encased her, immobilizing her limbs. Paralysis gripped her body. Glyphs of Warding circled the ground beneath her, running over every inch of her body. A Misdirection Hex ensured that no physical means of escape would be met with success. Spell Shields, Shimmering Shields, and countless other barriers layered her, proofing the prison against all forms of magic. I stumbled back, swaying, and fell to my knees, breathing heavily. _It is finished. _

**"Aegnor, that is a temporary measure at best. She will break free eventually."**

I shook my head slowly. "No... no, she won't."

**"She cannot be bound indefinitely."**

"True." I agreed. "She'd exhaust its power in minutes ordinarily." I enunciated carefully, trying to avoid slurring my words. My mending jaw and taxed stamina made me feel like I was coming off of a week-long bender.

**"So why-"**

"Because it's bound to my blood." I said tiredly. "I'll maintain it until I return from the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It'll take me a while to make it there and back in my current state, but it's the only solution I can see."

**"And if she breaks free while you are gone?"**

"What do you want me to say?" I demanded. "You said that she was an Evanuris, same as you. Now she is bound, the same as you were. The only difference is that I plan to come back and make things right."

**"I know your limits, Aegnor. Do not lie to me. You won't be able to hold that binding for long."**

I grit my teeth. "Maybe not, but limits are meant to be broken." I drew my dagger.

**"Do that, and you will lose all that you have gained."**

"And if I don't, I lose my best friend." I replied. "I never wanted power. I took it because I had to, and now I will sacrifice it because the price is worth every bit of it."

**"Very well. Do as you... AEGNOR!"**

Agony seared through me. I fell forward, barely catching myself. "What... by the Creators, what is that!?" I could feel myself _stretching, _almost, being forced apart at the seams through the bond in my blood.

**"She will strangle you from within. Break the seal! Before it is too-"**

As he spoke, the stretching grew too much, and it tore me. The sensation was beyond anything I'd ever felt. I called on my Dragon's Blood to dull the pain, yet the sensation was of every power in my blood being defied at once. The binding cracked, then was blasted apart, and Ellie floated out, her feet no longer touching the ground. A tear in the Veil opened behind her, and out came an armored figure, dwarfing even a Pride Demon, with a flaming sword in its hand and on its breast. A full helm covered the face, and behind the visor I saw the Void. I was forced to look away, before the very sight of it drove me insane.

**"AEGNOR! FIGHT!"**

I forced myself to my feet, only to sway dangerously. "I... I..." The armored figure drove an armored boot into my chest, destroying every rib. _I can't. _

**"YOU ARE NOT THIS WEAK!"**

I laughed silently, crushed more and more with each second. _You know what this is, don't you? _I spit up blood, and grinned through bloody teeth. _It's Ellie's Nightmare. She had one, same as me. Only her fear was deeper than mine. Twenty-five years, and she still feared Templars with every fiber of her being. The past months have only proved her right in that, and caused her Nightmare to grow. _

**"ENOUGH, AEGNOR! YOU SAID YOU HAD ONE CARD LEFT! USE IT!"**

_I did, didn't I? _I tried to push the boot off my chest, and failed to even shift it. _The first came from Justice. The second was the binding. As for the third... it was in case you were right. There is nothing left I can save. Ellie is gone. There is no way for me to save her. No one can. _I scrabbled with my hand, and found Starfang's hilt. I gripped it tightly. I would need it for what I was going to do. _Ir abelas, Papae. _My lungs were crushed, so my thoughts would have to be enough.

_**I, Aegnor Mahariel of the Sabrae Clan, invoke Elgar'nan, God of Vengeance, to right this wrong. **_

_**I swear, by my blood, breath, and bone, I will bring an end to all those who have caused Ellerina Amell suffering. **_

_**All those who have done this to her are my enemies, and will perish. **_

_**Those unknown to me will be hunted down, and I shall destroy them. **_


	26. Chapter 26: Brilliance, Tainted No More

_I hope this letter finds you well, my friend. I know I promised that I would visit Par Vollen, and I still intend to, but I am afraid that the Breach has halted any plans I had for leaving the South. We have our differences, but I think we an agree that it needs to be closed as soon as possible. Indeed, if its influence spreads further North, even Qunari lands will suffer from the rifts. _

_I ask for your help, old friend, to stop this happening. I cannot hold back this storm alone, nor can any of us. The one who opened the Breach has been active for years now, working in the shadows, and I was never able to come close to catching him. I have tried being subtle, and I failed. Ellie is gone because of that failure. Now, I am done with subtlety. I have what this being wants, and sooner or later he will have to show himself to obtain it. When he does so, the might of all Thedas will descend upon him. _

_Once we saved the world, and slew a god. Now, we are fewer. Shale, Wynne, Ellie, and Morrigan are dead or missing. It will take all of us, those that remain, to stand a chance. Whatever aid you can lend, be it soldiers, ships, or supplies, may make the difference. As the new Arishok, I know it's a faint hope to think your duty will spare you for this. Nevertheless, I hope that we have the chance to fight by each others sides, Starfang and Asala in hand, one last time. _

_May you and your people prosper,_

_Aegnor Mahariel_

_-A letter from Aegnor to the Arishok_

Ellie's Nightmare was thrown back by the force of my words. Wounds that should have slain me closed, bones that had been ground into dust reformed. My skin steamed as the blood coating me evaporated. By the time her Nightmare landed, I had been restored. I moved to finish the fight, finally understanding Elgar'nan's warning, yet my body continued to change. "Elgar'nan, what-"

**"She is an Evanuris. Flawed, twisted, driven by rage and hate, yet the power she wields is undeniable. There is only one power in the world to match it. Behold what she should have been."**

I recognized the magic of Shapeshifters, and stood in awe as my body grew larger, larger than any form I had ever seen taken. Flemeth had transformed into a High Dragon, yet this form dwarfed even that. Wings grew out of my shoulders, and claws adorned my hands and feet. My face elongated into a snout, and scales overtook my skin, thicker than any armor. Instead of obsidian, they shone with a golden light, save for patterns extending across entire body, blood red in color. _Elgar'nan's vallaslin! _I had always worn that of Andruil, written in my own blood, yet unbinding. A sign of maturity, not ownership. As the lines converged on my face, I felt the chains I had accepted, and realized just what I had sworn myself to. I roared, and heard myself as an Archdemon, so loud the stones beneath me cracked.

**"Archdemon? No. This is the form I wore in battle, before I was entombed and corrupted. This would be the height of the power we had, were the world unchanged from the days of Arlathan."**

Ellie's Nightmare charged, even as she bombarded me with Spirit Bolts. Thousands of them surrounded me, changing between the elements and slamming into my glimmering hide. As before, the hide of an Old God was too resilient, and I felt only the barest hint of discomfort. I could not even feel the heat of the fire.

**"And why should you? My fire has ever burned brightest."**

I opened my maw, and a torrent of white flames engulfed the Nightmare's armored form, stopping it in its tracks. The stones beneath it liquefied near instantly, causing it to sink into the molten rock. Powerful as it was, the breath of an Old God was beyond it, and its armor began to crumble away. The blade in its hand, wreathed in flames, guttered and smoked before, finally, it was extinguished. The blade withered to ash.

It was not yet dead, however. Ellie's fears could not be slain so easily. It waded through molten rock to reach me, and I closed my maw, letting my breath cease. It was then I spread my wings and took to the air, slamming into the massive figure with claws outstretched. Steel plates tore, and I ripped outwards, removing both of its arms. I savaged the helm with my teeth before I managed to get a hold of it, and ripped it away, revealing the abyss beneath it. Instead of gazing into it, I breathed again, bathing it in flames. No longer protected by its armor, the very essence of it was destroyed, and the monstrosity finally dropped, never to rise again.

Ellie screamed and fell to the ground. _Is it over? _I had slain her Nightmare. Surely its influence could not reach her now? When she looked back up at me, however, I saw the truth. The Nightmare was nothing more than a symptom of the disease. She was summoning new magics as I watched, thinning the Veil itself to lash out at the world around her once more. _Ellie, forgive me. _Already I could feel the strain of this form. Destroying a Nightmare as powerful as hers had nearly drained me, even with Elgar'nan's help. I couldn't withstand another attack.

_Am I really going to do this? Will I kill my best friend, even now? _I felt Elgar'nan's influence, but I could feel where he pulled and ignored it, leaving what I truly desired. In my heart, I knew I couldn't kill her. I couldn't leave it to where there was no chance of her coming back. _Elgar'nan, I ask for one last gift. _Without waiting for a reply, I summoned a memory I had traveled to Minrathous to collect. My maw could not form the words, but I spoke them in my mind. As I did so, I barreled toward Ellie and swatted her away, her broken frame already healing before it hit the ground. The Veil around her, already weakened, shattered as my spell finished, as it had more than a thousand years ago, and swallowed Ellie. Unable to sustain it, I let the Veil close behind her, swayed, and collapsed.

* * *

Aegnor opened his eyes to Leliana and Alistair, staring at him in shock. A mere moment had passed, but he knew what they had seen. He removed his hands and sat back down.

Alistair began. "That was..."

Aegnor nodded. "It was as I lived it. I left nothing out."

Leliana clenched her teeth, desperately trying to keep from crying. "Then you-"

He smiled sadly. "I tried everything in my power. I failed. Sending her to the Fade physically was her best chance of survival."

"That's no chance and you know it!" She shot back, tears streaking down her cheeks.

He sighed. "I had assumed she was dead before, as you do. Now, I know that isn't the case."

Alistair frowned at Leliana's puzzled look. "You didn't tell her?" He demanded.

Aegnor shook his head. "I didn't have the chance." He turned to Leliana. "You know that Alexius sent me into the future. What I didn't get a chance to say was that Ellie was in that future."

"WHAT? How!?" She demanded.

Aegnor winced. "I will share that memory with you, one day. You have a right to it. But for now, know that it's because of her that I obtained this." He raised his hand, revealing the Anchor.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Is that the Mark everyone was talking about? I thought only the Herald of Andraste had one."

"And I assumed that it was just another illusion of yours, to take command." Leliana added.

Aegnor lowered his hand. "It is no illusion. Ellie gave it to me, along with a message."

Leliana wiped her cheeks. "What did she say?"

Aegnor closed his eyes and sighed. "She told me it was time to stop protecting her memory."

Leliana's hands clenched until her knuckles turned white, before she slumped forward. "So what you're saying is that you've been doing all this... to protect her memory?" She whispered.

Aegnor smiled sadly. "All of it. The lies, the half-truths... I planned to take the blame and be the most hated man in Thedas, just so Ellie would be remembered a hero, not as the mage who destroyed the White Spire. She was blameless in all that transpired, but the world is not so kind with its judgement."

"And the Templars?"

Aegnor nodded. "My only regret is that I didn't destroy them sooner. When I think of all they've done to harm us... I cannot say that I regret even one of their deaths, nor do I regret the bargain I made with Elgar'nan. Even now, there are thousands that I can't account for. Elgar'nan only agreed to let me return when the Breach opened. We both agreed that it was our most pressing concern."

"So that's the only reason you came back?" Leliana asked.

"Not the only reason. "Aegnor replied. "That was what convinced Elgar'nan. I came back for you."

"Me!?"

Aegnor nodded. "Ellie and I had many promises, should one of us be killed. One of hers was that I look after you, and so long as the one pulling the strings is still out there, none of us are safe. By opposing their plans, we've placed a target on our backs. I failed you and Ellie in so many ways. I refuse to let it happen again."

Leliana scowled. "I can take care of myself!"

"We know you can." Alistair interjected. "That's not the point. You, me, Aegnor, Ellie... we all survived the Blight, and after that we've been able to go our separate ways. You became the Divine's Left Hand. I'm the King of Fereldan, Ellie was Warden-Commander, Sten's the new Arishok, Aegnor and Oghren are as irresponsible as ever-"

"Hey!"

"-but that's not the point." Alistair continued. "It's been so long since any of us needed help, REAL help, in what we're doing that most of us are too proud to ask." He gestured to Aegnor. "He's the most prideful of us all, and HE is asking for OUR help. We didn't stop the Blight by turning our noses up at help. We called in every favor we could, earned a few more along the way, and even then it was a near thing."

Aegnor chuckled. "Since when have you been so adept at guessing my plans?"

Alistair shrugged. "I had Anora's help.

Leliana's eyes widened in realization. "You don't mean..."

"I do." Aegnor said. "Alistair was the first to arrive, but he's not the only one I sent letters to. Ravens are flying to every corner of Thedas, from Amaranthine to Par Vollen. None of us are strong enough to weather this storm alone. But together, we saved the world once. We can do it again."

Leliana looked at him, sorrow and trepidation plain on her face. "And you plan to lead us?"

"I did so once." Aegnor replied, a hint of steel entering his voice. "The Herald is gone, and no one can unite Thedas like he could. No one except me. I have the Anchor, I have the reputation, I have the allies, and I have strength in both arms and sorcery." He extended his hands, one towards Alistair, the other towards Leliana. "Will you follow me, knowing the truth of what I've done? Will you trust me to save the world, as you once did?"

Alistair clasped forearms without a second thought. "That's the Aegnor I remember." He said proudly. "Whatever's behind this, we'll kick its ass!"

Leliana hesitated. "When all of this is done... will you help me find Ellie?"

Aegnor nodded. "I will. I once thought her beyond us, trapped in the Fade physically. But if she escaped in the future I saw, then she can do it again. I will do everything in my power to ensure we're both there when that happens."

Leliana closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and clasped her arm with Aegnor's. "Damn you, Aegnor. Damn you for not coming back sooner. Damn you for not trusting me. Damn you for letting me hate you for so long. I will follow you, if only because there is no other option. Maker have mercy on us all."

Aegnor smiled, relief plain on his face. "Thank you, my friends. Let's begin."

* * *

**I'm alive! Andraste's flaming arse, this took way longer than I expected. Chapters will probably be a bit less frequent in the future, and for that I apologize. This project started out on a whim, and I haven't really planned the story out past the last chapter. Now, with a respectable following and more than 5,000 story views, it's dawned on me that I need to figure out how to finish this story in a satisfying way, and figure out how to finish the Blight story arc, which in itself will be dozens of chapters. **

**To those of you who've stuck with this series thus far, thank you! Know that after chapter 30 I plan on doing a bunch of desperately needed editing and rewriting, but afterwards it's full steam ahead until we reach the finish line. I started this, and damned if I'm not going to finish it. Cheers, readers! As always, favorite, follow, and review!**


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